Lieutenant Keegan
by Khaliban
Summary: He was so quiet. He did his work and never bothered anyone. Who knew?
1. The Discovery Part 1

_Resurrected from usenet posts from many, many, (sigh) many years ago._

* * *

Chakotay leaned over the table and examined his captain's breakfast plate. "You shouldn't waste food like that," he said.

Captain Janeway looked down at her scrambled eggs and cantaloupe. She smiled at her first officer and handed him her PADD. "What do you see there?" She sipped her coffee.

"Some ensigns. Some lieutenants. All appear competent."

"How many names do you recognize?" the captain said. "How many faces can you put to those names."

"Some," Chakotay replied.

"But not all. We've been here seven years. I still don't know everyone aboard this ship. Do you?"

"We've been busy."

The captain shook her head and waved a hand at the commander. "That's not enough," she said. "I've built relationships with holograms." Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. "I should know every member of my crew. I should know what they're like." She leaned back and sipped some more coffee. "Divide those competent ensigns and lieutenants into groups. I want them on away missions with me. Do it personally. It will give you a chance to learn their faces as well."

He examined the list again. "Looking for some more wayward children?"

"After seven years, some of them might have been senior officers in the Alpha Quadrant. Here, they haven't been able to prove themselves. We may not have wayward children, but we may be wasting great potential."

Now Chakotay smiled. "You're not trying to replace me are you?"

"No, but I like options."

* * *

Later that day, Chakotay was host to a gaggle of about thirty crewmen and junior officers. He had separated the list by function and seniority, and he began to call them into groups. The first group would survey a gas giant. The next, an asteroid field. The third got one of the ever present spatial anomalies. Eight groups in all. When he was done, he asked for questions.

"Why?" a Bolian ensign asked. "The captain has never taken much interest in me. In any of us really."

"That's why," Chakotay said. "The captain feels she needs to know her crew better. I agree with her. We're still a long way from the Alpha Quadrant. Any one of you may be needed to replace a senior officer. She needs to know you and your talents if she ever has to call on you. Because I need to know you as well, I want each group to meet with me the day before your away mission." He scanned the room. "Any more questions? No? Then back to work."

* * *

"Marvelous." Janeway said, this time waving both hands at her First Officer. "Absolutely marvelous." She was talking about the first away mission from the day before. She cut off a piece of her Belgian waffle and pushed it into her mouth.

"Your report said nothing special about the gas giant," Chakotay said with a smirk.

"And there wasn't," Kathryn said, stabbing another piece of waffle. "But Ensign Montez had us in stitches the whole way. Now I know why B'Elanna hates him so much."

"No, she doesn't tolerate levity on her watch."

"He told a story about one of my old professors. God knows I love the man, but I could see it. I could see the whole thing happening." She started to chuckle.

Chakotay held up a PADD. "I've been reviewing Starfleet protocol..."

"I know," She said. "'Unnecessary fraternization by senior and junior officers on starships is to be discouraged. It is the duty of the First Officer, Staff Officer and Ship's Counselor to identify such activity especially on long exploration vessels. Such activity can lead to an unhealthy bias, detrimental to the functioning of the ship.' That's for ships with a yearly turnaround schedule for the crew." She spread her hands to finish the thought.

"Just performing my duty."

"Duly noted. Now, who will be joining me in the asteroid field?"

* * *

Several days later, Chakotay walked into the Astrometrics lab for the briefing with the fifth away team. Three team members stood around the control console while Seven of Nine provided them with the basic information on the planet they were to survey. The fourth team member, a lieutenant, stood well back from the group and followed the information on his own PADD. Chakotay enjoyed these briefings. In spite of protocol, he felt these missions were valuable to crew operation and moral. He enjoyed the lost souls the most.

"Lieutenant Keegan?" he said. "There's plenty of room at the console."

"I'll take note of that, Commander," the lieutenant replied.

"Join us, Mister Keegan." Chakotay walked to the console. He turned and saw the lieutenant had not joined them. "Mister Keegan? Is there a problem?"

Seven stepped forward. "You will find Lieutenant Keegan is frightened of me."

"'Fear is the mind-killer,'" Keegan said. "'It is the little death.' No, I am cautious. Not frightened. You have fallen under Borg control before. An awareness of you is not unwarranted."

"That's a double negative," Chakotay said, smiling.

"No, it's litotes," Keegan replied.

"Are you unhappy about being on this mission?" the commander asked.

"No, I look forward to a little time off the ship. I'm just not a warm person."

Chakotay had to chuckle. "Well, we'll try to change that."

"Yes," Keegan said. "I'm sure you will."

Chakotay chuckled again. He turned to Seven. "I think I can handle this briefing without you. There's no reason to make the lieutenant nervous." He turned around. "Sorry, cautious."

"Your statement is not logical," she said. "I have spent a considerable amount of time analyzing and preparing this information. I am best suited to deliver it."

"Seven—" the commander began.

"Your purpose here," Lieutenant Keegan said, "is nothing more than the dissemination of cataloged information readily available to anyone who can read and push three buttons on that console. Take your efficiency to Engineering and put it to good use."

Seven responded to the comment with more than just a raised eyebrow. She pulled away from the lieutenant as if shocked, or even perturbed. She turned to the commander, waiting for him to respond.

"Mister Keegan," Chakotay said. "Apologize to Seven."

"Or what? I don't get pudding?" he said.

"Do it. That's an order."

"No, Commander," Seven said. "An apology is not needed. It is an inefficient use of time."

"Oh, my god," Keegan groaned.

"Mister Keegan, that's enough. Apologize to Seven."

The lieutenant took a long breath and sighed. He moved his head around as if he had difficulty looking at her. He finally said, "I apologize if I have offended you in any way."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," she said. "Your apology is accepted. And, Commander, I believe I will go to Engineering."

Chakotay nodded. "Everyone else, let's get back to the briefing."

"Commander, perhaps it would be best if she stayed here, and I left," Keegan said.

"No, Lieutenant, you're exactly the type of person the captain wants on this mission."

"Oh," he said without inflection. "That's nice to know."

* * *

Captain Janeway sat in the pilot's seat of the Delta Flyer, running it through a preflight check. It had become a quick ritual for her. The Flyer was always in top shape, so she used the time to relax and go over Chakotay's comments about the crew. But she couldn't relax after Chakotay's account of the incident in Astrometrics. Seven was rarely easy to get along with, especially for the junior officers. They resented the authority and position she held and her relationship with the captain and the rest of the senior staff. Chakotay had agreed with this assessment. She reviewed the lieutenant's record. Philip Keegan. Head of the Computer Core. His monthly evaluations were always impressive. By rights, he should be running Astrometrics. No wonder he was upset.

"Captain?" someone said behind Janeway. She turned and saw a Bolian woman standing at the other end of the bridge.

"Ensign Sqilookle? I hope I pronounced that right." She smiled and took the ensign's hand. "You're qualified to pilot the Flyer, aren't you?"

"Only in simulations, Captain."

"Well, welcome to the real thing." She guided the woman to the pilot's seat.

"Do you think we'll see much action?" Sqilookle said while feeling her way around the controls.

"I doubt it. Just keep her level and don't try anything fancy."

"Darn. I was hoping for more."

Janeway patted the ensign's shoulder and smiled. That relaxed feeling was returning.

"I understand you also like Earth classical music."

"Yes," the Bolian said over her shoulder. "Brahms is my favorite."

"And one of mine," Janeway replied.

They were deep into a discussion of the composer when two more crew members arrived. Both were human, a man with Asian features and a woman of Arabic descent.

"Ensign Nureek," the captain said to the man, shaking his hand.

"And Lieutenant Hununga," she said, taking the woman's hand. "Lieutenant, you're in planetology. You'll man the sensors. Ensign, you're in—"

"History, diplomacy and exobiology."

"Not bad."

"I'm a people person." His comment produced an easy laughter.

"Now, we just need Mister Keegan."

The crew looked away from her.

The captain sighed. "I heard about the incident."

"It was nothing," Hununga said. "I don't think Phil was angry at Seven or anyone else. I just think he doesn't want to be on this mission."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," the captain replied. "All of you will."

"Don't jinx us, Captain," Nureek said. They all laughed again.

They were trading stories about post-graduation parties, when the bay doors opened and Lieutenant Keegan walked in. Kathryn, in spite of herself, stared at the officer. He was the most impressive looking computer technician she'd ever seen. He had dark hair and sharp Irish features. At 193cm and 100kg, his body tapered naturally beyond the effect of his uniform. He walked across the shuttle bay like a Tyrolean sand tiger, or a panther, take your pick. He didn't look at the ship but read from his PADD as he walked.

When Keegan passed from sight, Nureek said, "Why do I suddenly feel invisible?"

Janeway and Hununga both said, "What?" while Sqilookle leaned toward the window still following the lieutenant.

"Nothing," Nureek said.

Keegan walked onto the bridge still reading.

"Lieutenant?" the captain said in a hopeful voice.

He turned off the PADD, set it down and looked up. He examined each of his fellow officers in turn, touching on face, rank and the station they stood near. He looked at the captain last, at her eyes, her phaser and her outstretched hand. He took her hand softly, smiled and said, "Shall I sit here, then?" He tilted his head toward the computer station.

The captain nodded. "You're our computer expert."

He smiled again and sat down. "Ladies," he said, "gentleman, are we ready for the most boring away mission imaginable?"

"You never know," Hununga said. "We might get lucky."

He raised an eyebrow. "Only if you brought alcohol."

Kathryn found herself shocked into a laugh. She coughed her way through it and sat down. The others took their stations as well. Janeway gave the order to take off and Sqilookle opened the shuttle bay doors. The Delta Flyer rose off the deck, slid out the magnetic shield and swung around towards their destination.

"I was told," Kathryn said, "that you were difficult."

"You mean what happened in Astrometrics," Lieutenant Keegan replied. "I'll admit, I have some problems with your protégé. It's nothing to worry about, though."

"The way Commander Chakotay told it, you were ready to come to blows," Janeway said.

"Verbal only, I assure you," he replied.

"That's good to know, but you'll have to tell me about your problems later. For now, Ensign Sqilookle, what is the ETA to our destination?"

The ensign checked over the controls and pressed a button. The console beeped loudly and continued to beep until she hit it four more times.

"Three hours, thirty-seven minutes, Captain."

"Thank you, Ensign," Janeway said. "Mister Keegan, we were trading graduation stories before you walked in. Do you have any that might fill the time?"

He leaned on one elbow and looked at each of their faces; eyes, jaw line, set of the mouth. "Not of graduation, I'm afraid. But, I went to this party once at MIT. Sit back. This is going to be a long one."

Three and a half hours later, the Flyer moved into orbit. Brahms played softly only to be silenced when Sqilookle pushed them towards their entry window. She brought them in a bit too steep but managed to land less than half a kilometer from an intermittent bio-signature. Hununga and Nureek thought the creature that produced it might prove interesting.

"Mister Keegan," Kathryn said. "I've heard everyone else's assessment of the planet. What can you tell me?"

Keegan sighed. "According to the computer, it's round with a slight distention along the equator. I'm a computer expert, Captain. I really don't have much of a purpose here."

"Yeah, right," Lisa Hununga murmured.

Janeway squinted at Hununga's comment. "We'll find something for you," the captain said to Keegan. "Don't worry."

"I look forward to the challenge, Captain."

Sqilookle remained aboard the Flyer in case of trouble while the others moved on foot towards the bio-signature, scanning and taking samples as they did. They moved slowly, to learn as much as they could. Kathryn knew it wouldn't be impressive, though. They'd found nothing interesting in any of the mineral or chemical scans they'd done in orbit. The planetary scans showed a lot of the same.

"What do you think, Mister Keegan?" Janeway called out.

"I think you lost the bet, Captain," he yelled to her from a ridge.

She sighed. He was right. Her tricorder couldn't even find the signature that looked so promising from orbit. She tapped her communicator.

"All right, everyone," she said. "Let's head back."

Keegan waved to her as he started down and Hununga squeezed out from between a couple of boulders. The two lieutenants reached the captain without Nureek in sight.

"Ensign Nureek," Janeway said. "We're heading back."

"Just a moment, Captain," Nureek's voice crackled over the communicator. "I think I've found something."

A moment later, they heard a horrified scream from behind a hill. Keegan was the first to move. The others followed behind at half his pace. He took the hill in huge steps while Janeway and Hununga struggled hand and foot.

"Sqilookle!" the captain said, slapping her comm hard. "Beam Ensign Nureek to the ship now!"

"I'm trying, Captain," the Bolian replied through static. "But I can't get a lock, and I'm losing your comm signal."

As Janeway and Hununga topped the hill, they saw Ensign Nureek in the tentacles of something large and yellow that pulled him across the ground towards its conical mouth. Keegan was near the foot of the hill and still running. He jumped three meters down from a boulder, landing near a dead tree. He took hold of a large branch and struck the base of it with the heel of his hand. It snapped off the tree, and he started running again. Twenty meters from Nureek, he threw the branch like a javelin. The branch hit the creature in the center of its mouth. The creature let out a scream like the bleat of a saxophone and thrashed around. Three of the five tentacles on Nureek let go. Keegan was at Nureek before they could snap back into place. He pulled hard on the ensign while stomping on one of the tentacles. Both loosened, and the two officers fell away from the creature. Keegan grabbed Nureek and dragged him out of the creature's range. They collapsed at the base of the hill just as Janeway and Hununga reached them.

"Ensign Nureek—" the captain started.

"Conscious but dazed," Keegan said. "He's suffering from multiple lacerations, three of them deep. The discoloration and swelling indicate a toxin, most likely muscular. I doubt it's strong enough to kill on its own, but combined with the shock and blood loss, it's hard to tell. We need to get him back to Voyager."

"How are you doing?"

"Exhausted. The adrenaline is wearing off." He stood up and staggered against a rock. "I'll make it back to the Flyer, but I'll need help with Tadao."

The three of them carried the ensign to a point where Sqilookle could get a solid lock. She took off while they were loading him onto the medical bed. Once activated, the bed administered anesthetics and antitoxins and began to run tissue regenerators across the cuts.

"Lieutenant Hununga," Kathryn said. "Go up front, and contact Voyager. Apprise them of the situation and order them to intercept us."

"Yes, Captain," the lieutenant replied.

"Lieutenant Keegan, let me see that arm."

He looked down at his sleeve and saw a long tear in his uniform and a gash in his forearm. He pulled up his sleeve and sat down while the captain got a medical kit.

"It looks like a Jellyfish scar," he said.

"Get a lot of those?" she asked and injected him with antitoxin.

"No, I was always more of a pool swimmer."

She sprayed a pre-sealer on his arm and took out a tissue regenerator. "You missed out. There's nothing like a salt water swim."

"Do you know how to use that?" he asked.

"It's just a regenerator. I've used them many times before."

He flexed his hand. "I never thought of you as the clumsy type."

She laughed. "That's insubordination."

"Only if it's true." He pulled his sleeve back down.

She laughed again and put up her hands. "I yield. You win the day. And, Mister Keegan, that was—"

"Stupid! What the hell was I thinking?"

"It looked to me like you saved a man's life," she replied.

"With a stick! I have a phaser on my belt, and I'm using a goddam stick!"

"Nice throw," she returned.

"Lucky shot. I should have used it as a club and hit the tentacles."

"What you did worked," she said. "That's what matters."

"You can stop defending me, Captain. I was there." He leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Tired?" she asked.

"Hungry. I used a lot of energy. I won't be in pain until tomorrow."

"I think I can do something about that." She walked to the replicator and ordered a stew. Seeing him against the wall, injured and half asleep, she felt an urge to rub his shoulders or push his hair back from his forehead. She shook it off and carried the stew to him.

Hununga stepped in then. "Captain, we're at maximum warp. Voyager has been alerted. We'll be in transporter range in fifty-three minutes."

"Very good, Lieutenant."

"I transmitted the medical bed information to the Doctor," Lisa said.

"What was his diagnosis?" the captain asked.

"Neuro-muscular toxin designed to incapacitate not kill. The dose is very low. Tadao was probably a larger target than the creature was used to. Most of his injuries were from being dragged across the rocks."

"Do you know why we couldn't get a transporter lock?" Janeway said.

"Yes," Hununga replied. "I reviewed the sensor information. The creature emits a radiation pulse. It's probably designed to disorient its prey. We must not be susceptible. But it does disrupt sensors and communication."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Good job."

"Yes, Captain. Phil? How are you doing?" Lieutenant Hununga watched Keegan in a way that made Kathryn feel suddenly intrusive.

He sighed and scooped some stew into his mouth. "Not bad. I'm just trying to survive the captain's cooking."

"The replicator made it," Janeway countered, still watching Lisa's expression. "We should blame the computer expert."

He held up his hand. "Guilty as charged."

"Don't worry," Janeway said. "When this is all over, I'll have a celebration dinner for all the away teams."

"What are we celebrating?" Hununga asked.

The captain looked over at Lieutenant Keegan.

"Oh," he said. "I never touch the easy ones."

"I guess we'll be celebrating survival. I think we deserve that."

When the Delta Flyer reached Voyager, Keegan and Nureek transported to Sickbay. Sqilookle piloted the Flyer into the shuttle bay, and she, the captain and Hununga walked to Sickbay. Chakotay was waiting for them. Nureek was asleep on a medical bed. The Doctor stood at a console reviewing records. Lieutenant Keegan was not there.

"Doctor," Janeway said. "What is Mister Nureek's prognosis?"

"Healthy," he replied. "He suffered some scrapes and bruises and a broken arm. The Flyer's medical bed treated him for the toxin and the deeper cuts, and I've given him something for the radiation. Speaking of which—" He injected something into the captain's neck. "I'll need to inoculate all of you, but I don't think there's anything to worry about. I'll keep Ensign Nureek here for observation for the next twenty-four hours and put him on one-week sick leave."

"Thank you, Doctor. Any 'I told you so's, Commander?"

"You know I would never do that. In public," Chakotay replied. "Will you be continuing with these missions?"

"Yes," she said. "Starfleet wasn't created to hide from danger. Now, where is Mister Keegan?"

Chakotay shook his head. "He wasn't here when I arrived. Doctor?"

They waited for a response.

"Doctor?" the captain asked. "Doctor, what happened to Lieutenant Keegan? Doctor!"

"Captain? Mister Keegan suffered only a minor injury. I believe you treated him on the Flyer. I gave him the anti-radiation serum and sent him back to work."

"You sent him back to work?" Chakotay said.

"He asked to return to work. I saw no reason to detain him."

"I see," Chakotay said. He tapped his communicator. "Lieutenant Keegan."

"Keegan here."

"Mister Keegan, why did you leave the Sickbay before the captain or I arrived?"

"My apologies, Commander," Keegan replied. "I didn't think my injuries warranted the personal attention of the senior staff."

"That's not good enough, Mister," the commander said. "I want you and the rest of the away team to join me for a debriefing in conference room two in thirty minutes."

"Yes, sir," Keegan replied.

"Captain, I'd like to conduct the debriefing without you."

"I understand," she said. "I'll be on the bridge."


	2. The Discovery Part 2

Chakotay stirred his fork through his rice and mushrooms. He leaned on one elbow and stared in the general direction of his orange juice.

"Wasting food?" Janeway asked.

"What happened down there?" he said.

"I take it the debriefing didn't go well?"

"No, it's not that," Chakotay said. "Sqilookle was aboard the Flyer. You and Hununga were on top of the hill. What did you see?"

Janeway lay down her fork and crossed her fingers. "Lieutenant Keegan threw a tree branch at the lifeform and hit it in the mouth. It hurt the creature enough to make it let go of Ensign Nureek. I'm thinking about giving Mister Keegan a commendation for it. Why?"

"Was there any reason for him to break Ensign Nureek's arm?" Chakotay asked.

"No. None that I could see. I assumed the creature did that."

"The Doctor said the fracture was caused by a human hand crushing Nureek's arm."

"Perhaps it was the adrenaline," she replied. "Lieutenant Keegan did things I thought only a Vulcan could do."

"Doesn't that seem odd?"

"Considering the situation, no," Kathryn said. "Maybe the Doctor was mistaken. He seemed to have a glitch."

"I know. I'm having B'Elanna check that out."

"What did Lieutenant Keegan say about the incident?"

The commander leaned back in his chair. "He called it the stupidest thing he had ever done. He couldn't believe he threw a stick at the creature and hit it."

"He told me the same thing. It worked though."

"It had to," Chakotay responded.

"Excuse me?"

"B'Elanna reviewed the orbital sensor logs. A creature emitting that kind of radiation would be immune to normal phaser fire."

"You think Keegan knew? How? And if he did, why wouldn't he mention it?" She leaned back. "Did you review his tricorder logs?"

"They'd been purged. It looked like routine maintenance."

"That bothers you," she said.

"Yes."

"What would he have to hide?"

"Could he have taken some kind of stimulant?" Chakotay asked. "That might explain his actions. What was he like during the trip?"

"Witty, educated, amiable. He told me a story about a party at MIT—"

"Which one?"

"Massachusetts. I never realized how insane some geniuses could be."

Chakotay shrugged. "But he showed no unusual behavior? He doesn't sound like the same person that was in Astrometrics."

"He said he has issues with Seven." The captain sipped some coffee. "Did he have family members at Wolf 359?"

"I don't know," Chakotay said. "We've had a few losses to the Borg ourselves. He said he was cautious around Seven because she had fallen under Borg control at various times since regaining her humanity. That explains his actions towards Seven, but... Maybe this is all coincidence. We've been attacked by so many enemies, we're beginning to look for them among the crew."

"Are we becoming paranoid in our old age?" Janeway asked.

Chakotay laughed. "You're only paranoid if they're not out to get you."

The captain spread her hands. "I'll talk to Mister Keegan. I'm sure this is nothing, and I don't want to randomly accuse the hero of the day."

The commander sighed. "Well, if nothing else, I have my appetite back."

* * *

Captain Janeway walked through the dark corridors in the bowels of the ship towards the Computer Core. She stopped just outside the doors, shook her head, stepped through and found the room empty. She took three steps when Lieutenant Keegan's torso, his hands behind his neck, swung down from the ceiling.

"Captain?" the lieutenant said.

"What are you doing, Mister Keegan?"

"Inverted sit-ups. I have a lot of slow time down here. I exercise to pass the time." He dropped to the floor, landing on his feet. "What brings you down here?"

"I had a few questions about the away mission."

He sighed. "'No one expects the Spanish Inquisition.'"

"This isn't a witch hunt, Lieutenant."

"No, that would depend on what kind of witch I am." He sat on the computer console. "I guess I'm your new puzzle."

"Mister Keegan?"

"Captain, Voyager would not have made it this far if not for your ability to solve problems. But you're locked into a constantly curious state."

"Not without reason," Janeway said.

"I never said there wasn't, but if you don't have a problem in front of you, you go looking. It's necessary, and I understand that. It's been slow lately, so here you are. I just don't want to be your new mystery."

"I have to ask why," she said.

"Do you want every part of your life examined?"

"Oh. I understand. Tell me, why did you use a stick?"

"I have no idea." He shrugged. "It just seemed the right thing to do. How is Tadao?"

"Recovering. He's already on his feet. You exhibited some medical knowledge on the planet."

"Oh, that," Keegan said. "For a while, you thought about recruiting a new doctor from the general crew. At the time, I didn't like my job, so I started studying. But, I found a better job, and you found a better doctor."

"Why did you purge the tricorder records?"

"I always do," he said.

"That's not Starfleet procedure."

He shook head. "When Mister Paris took his trip through Warp Ten, he dumped a great deal of navigational information in the computer."

"Yes," she replied.

"This wouldn't be a problem if we had access to a Starbase. We could dump our unnecessary data. I don't have that luxury. We need that navigational data. Other information is less vital and must be purged. We had the scans from the Flyer, so the tricorders had to go."

"You should alert me before you do something like this, Lieutenant."

"I did. I sent you a memo four years ago." He shrugged again. "You signed it."

The captain sighed. "I'm sorry for this. I have no other questions. I guess I'll see you at the dinner."

"I guess you will."

"And, Lieutenant, try to be nicer to Seven."

"I'll try."

* * *

Kathryn sat back, idly poking her omelet. She read from a PADD.

"Well?" Chakotay asked.

"His memo and my signature at the bottom of it. I found it along with a dozen others I signed the same day." She dropped the PADD. "I vaguely remember thinking how good it was to have a department head who worried about the small details. Are we really that paranoid?"

"Not without reason," Chakotay replied.

"He answered every question. Perfectly. Without hesitation." She waved her hand. "I say problem solved. Let's move on to the next away mission."

"I agree."

* * *

Eight days later, at seventeen hundred hours, all thirty-plus ensigns and lieutenants gathered for an informal dinner with Captain Janeway, Commander Chakotay and some other members of the senior staff. Mister Neelix puttered around the mess hall providing food or drink whenever asked while the attendees chatted aimlessly about the away missions. At the center of a small clutch of people stood Lieutenant Keegan, shaking his head and denying, again, that he did anything special. Tadao Nureek stood next to him and denied every denial. At last, the captain tapped her glass, and they all took their seats.

"A toast," she said. "To surviving an afternoon with your captain."

Laughter and cheers followed.

"And, if anyone wants the job permanently," Chakotay said. "See me after the meal. I need the time off."

More laughter followed by gratuitous food consumption.

"So, Philip," B'Elanna began.

"You two know each other?" the captain said.

"He served in Engineering for a few months. Tell me, Philip, how's the Computer Core?"

"Dark and quiet, just the way I like it."

"Not like your women," she said.

Tom perked up. "Something I should know about?"

"Relax, Mister Paris," Philip Keegan said. "I never dated a woman who punched me, and I'm not about to start."

"That's half of B'Elanna's charm." Tom put a hand on his wife's shoulder.

"Does the other half involve a leather whip?"

"A gentleman tells no tales," Tom said.

"But, that's half of a man's charm," Keegan retorted.

"Phil," B'Elanna said. "Remember that part about punching?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Mister Neelix," Kathryn said. "I believe you have a special desert prepared?"

"Yes, Captain. Home-baked pecan pie."

"Where did you get the pecans?" she asked.

"Well, they're pecan-like."

She put up her hands. "That's good enough."

"You have whipped cream, don't you?" Tom said.

Neelix's eyes widened, and he ran off.

"Seven," Chakotay said with a nudge.

"Yes, Commander," she replied with some reluctance. She took a breath and leaned towards Lieutenant Keegan. "Mister Keegan. I wanted to say ... you run the Computer Core in an efficient manner."

The lieutenant looked first at Chakotay, then the captain, then at Seven. He shrugged. "Thank you, Annika."

She let out a hard breath. "I have asked you before not to refer to me in that manner."

"Why not?" he said.

"That is not my name."

"Then why did you twitch when I said it?"

Seven's eyes narrowed. "Please do not refer to me by that name."

"Why not?"

"It is not my name," she said sternly.

"It's the name your parents gave you," he replied. "Your human parents. Do you remember them, Annika?"

"That is not my name," she said.

"Then why do you care if I use it?" he asked.

"Mister Keegan," the captain said. "I believe it's up to Seven what name we use."

"But, Captain," he countered. "You're not using a name. You're using a Borg designation. Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero. That's not a name, it's a serial number. Is she a person or a convenient household appliance?"

"Lieutenant," the captain said harshly. "That type of language is not necessary here. Seven is a person and due a certain amount of respect."

"Goddammit!" He hit the table hard, rattling silverware in a wide radius. "I am sick of you people coddling this woman! But she's not a woman is she? She's a sixteen-year-old girl with the emotional development of an eight-year-old trapped in the body of a Penthouse Pet. My only crime was calling her by her name."

"That is not—" Seven said.

"Your damn name. I heard you the first time. Why not? Why are you running from it?" he said loud and fast.

"I don't understand your question," Seven replied.

"Are you afraid of them?"

"Of who?" she said.

"Your parents," he replied.

"No. Why would I be afraid of my parents?"

"What are their names?" he asked.

"I do not see how that is relevant."

"All right. What are their Borg designations?"

"Mister Keegan!" Janeway said.

Seven dropped her face and bounced her eyes around the table as if deciding in exactly what part of Lieutenant Keegan's jugular to place them.

"Are you human or Borg?" Keegan's eyes never moved from Seven.

"What?" Seven asked.

"Have you looked for your family?"

"My family?"

"Aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents. Have you looked for anyone else in the Hansen clan?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I see no purpose in it." Her voice was calm against his fire.

"Are you human or Borg?"

"I believe I have made my choice clear."

"And how the hell are we supposed to know that?" he said. "Half the time you tell us you want to be human, the other half you tell us how much more efficient the Borg are. You claim you're a human with an identity, but you use a Borg designation. Any problem comes up, you find the Borg way out but tell us how human the decision was. You've been able to eat and sleep normally for three-and-a-half years but you spend your nights in a regeneration chamber. How long do we have to wait for you to pick one of these two sides?"

"Lieutenant," Captain Janeway said. "Seven is trying to find her own path."

"Oh, good god," he groaned. "She's a child. How emotionally stable were you at sixteen? Or eight for that matter? She needs guidance. At least more than you've shown her."

Kathryn dropped her jaw and sat back. The rest of the table gasped.

"I had the experiences of the Collective—" Seven began.

"And we're back to the perfection of the Borg! You may be indecisive, but you're consistent."

"I have chosen humanity," she said firmly.

"Then prove it. Do something human. Get laid, get wasted, try some inflection for god's sake. Shout at me." He was standing now, leaning on his fists and staring at her. She stared back with her jaw held tight.

"Yelling is—" she began.

"An inefficient use of vocal energy?"

"Unwarranted. I have made my choice clear."

He straightened and took a deep breath, loud in the silent room.

"Perhaps I should go," he said.

Neelix stepped forward with a pie plate in his hand. "You'll miss the pie," he said.

Lieutenant Keegan looked at the desert and at Neelix. "Thank you, Mister Neelix, I'm on a diet." He walked out of the room.

Seven held her hand out to Neelix. "Mister Neelix, please hand me the desert." She took a bite of it while the rest of the table watched. She chewed slowly and swallowed. "You are correct, Mister Paris. The whipped cream has a beneficial influence on the taste of the desert. I suggest we eat."

* * *

Two days later, Lieutenant Keegan sat in a corner of the galley, far from any other crew, munching a pasta dish and reading from his PADD. B'Elanna, a mug of coffee in one hand and a Danish in the other, walked to his table and sat down. She waited and began tapping her fingernails until he looked up.

"Yes, B'Elanna?" he said.

"This place is almost empty."

He put his PADD down. "I like it that way."

"I've noticed that, Phil. What are you working on?"

He slid the PADD over. She read through it.

"Cochrane's Unclaimed Thesis?" she said. "When you transferred out of Engineering, you told me you weren't any good at this."

"No," he said, taking the PADD back. "I said I could do a better job in the Computer Core."

"Phil, what's wrong? I'm the closest thing you have to a friend. Tell me something, please?"

"Is the captain upset?"

B'Elanna tapped her fingers again. "No. She's disappointed. Do you blame her?"

He sat back and crossed his hands. "Yes, I do."

"What?"

"Every member of the crew needs something to help maintain their sanity," Keegan said. "You have work, Tom, that little Parisian on the way. Among other things, the captain has Annika Hansen. Captain Janeway wants to have children. At this time, the chances are unlikely that this will happen. Annika is the captain's surrogate child."

B'Elanna shook her head to clear it of that logic. "Even if that's true, why would you yell at the captain's daughter?"

He shrugged his hands. "Because I like her," he replied. "Don't look at me like that. Maybe I'm feeling my own parental needs. She has a lot of potential, but she suffers with her own lack of humanity daily. I see it, and I don't see anyone trying to help her."

"The captain—"

"Isn't doing enough. Annika should be out with people her own age. She shouldn't need a hologram to teach her what dating is. She should be having fun. And should deal with the Borg the way a human would. She needs to mourn the childhood they stole from her. She needs to cry, or...something."

"Cry?" B'Elanna let the word sit for a moment trying to picture that. "Even so, why can't you tell the captain?"

"The captain?" he said. "I can tell her something is wrong with the ship. I can tell her something is wrong with the Computer Core. I can tell her other crew members, even Annika, are acting unusual or inappropriate. But, how am I supposed to tell her she's a failure as a mother?"

"I see your point. I don't agree with it, but I understand it. I think you can talk to the captain about this, about anything if it affects the ship."

He shook his head. "It's not my place. Annika has chosen the captain as her surrogate mother. She has to tell the captain. I don't have the right."

"Do you want me to talk to her?"

"God, no. Either one. Tell the captain I'm sorry about the outburst. Beyond that, it's not my problem."

"Okay." She picked up her Danish and took a bite. "So, tell me, what's your take on the Unclaimed Thesis controversy?"

"Well," he said, looking at his PADD. "It's obvious Cochrane didn't write it."

* * *

"B'Elanna?" the captain said. "B'Elanna? Are you following?"

"I'm sorry, Captain." She looked around the Briefing Room. "I had a strange conversation with Phil this morning."

The captain sighed. She found she did that a lot where Lieutenant Keegan was concerned. "Let's put the lieutenant out of our minds for now. Can you set the torpedo load to safely dissipate the energy in the fault line?"

"I need to run a few more simulations."

"Will that take long?" Chakotay asked.

"No." B'Elanna tapped her fingers a few times. "Did Cochrane write his Unclaimed Thesis?"

Kathryn turned to her First Officer. She and Chakotay both recognized the expression on B'Elanna's face. She wanted to call it the Keegan Syndrome.

"Well," Kathryn said. "Most scientists from the Cochrane and Daystrom Institutes say yes. Most other scientists and historians say no. Is that what's bothering you?"

"Phil said you thought of yourself as Seven's surrogate mother. He made a very compelling argument."

Kathryn looked to Chakotay for support, but his eyes drifted away. "I don't think it's any of Mister Keegan's business."

"He said that too."

"Good."

"He also said you weren't a very good mother."

"What?"

"He told me I shouldn't mention that."

"He was right," the captain said. "Please tell Mister Keegan to keep his opinions to himself. Now, we have to help the Quagaar with their earthquakes. B'Elanna, I need you to get to work on that simulation as soon as possible. Mister Neelix, how much dilithium and supplies are the Quagaar offering us for this assistance?"

"Enough supplies for eight months, Captain."

Janeway smiled. "Excellent. If there are no further questions..."

"Captain?" Seven said.

"Yes, Seven."

"Why is Lieutenant Torres running the computer simulation?"

"Because, I'm the Chief Engineer," B'Elanna said.

"Yes, Lieutenant, but shouldn't the head of the Computer Core oversee any simulations?"

"You don't think I can handle it?"

Kathryn put her hand up. "I'm sure it's not that, B'Elanna. What Seven meant was—"

"I am not questioning your competence, Lieutenant," Seven replied. "I was wondering exactly what it was that Lieutenant Keegan did aboard this ship." Seven turned to the captain for her answer.

After some consideration, the captain said, "I don't know. B'Elanna, what does Lieutenant Keegan do, other than make rash accusations?"

B'Elanna said, "Phil created about a hundred and fifty templates that virtually every department uses, to some extent, for their simulations. He also designs the interface programs for any Delta Quadrant technology. And he maintains the Computer Core, both Primary and Auxiliary."

Seven said, "How would you evaluate his performance?"

B'Elanna shrugged. "When he worked in Engineering, he was one of my best technicians. I've never found problems with one of his templates. I can't imagine working without them."

"Is something wrong, Seven?" Chakotay asked.

"I am bothered by some of his comments."

"Is he getting to you?" Tom said. "Or are you feeling paranoid again?"

"I am in full control of my faculties, Mister Paris," Seven replied. "My recollection of him during that time, though, is one of extreme curiosity."

"As I recall, Seven," Chakotay said. "You were curious about everything then."

"What is your suggestion, Seven?" the captain asked, waving an open hand. "I'm open to anything that will help crew morale."

"I could ask Phil to run the simulation himself," B'Elanna said. "If you're trying to make him part of the team."

"He is a part of the team," Janeway said. "I want him to know that. Have him run the simulation. In fact, I want him to present an alternative of his own design to the Quagaar council tomorrow."

"An alternative?" Torres asked.

"Yes. If he reads Cochrane in his spare time, he can do this. I want to see what he's capable of."

"Yes, Captain," B'Elanna said. "Did you want anything else?"

"Did you find anything wrong with the Doctor?"

"No, he checked out perfectly."

"I see. If that's it?" She waited for a response. "Okay, everyone dismissed."


	3. The Discovery Part 3

B'Elanna watched the display in Astrometrics as an image of Voyager fired a torpedo at a wireframe of the Quagaar homeworld. The torpedo struck near the red mark of a fault line and exploded. Pressure, in the form of a color gradient, dissipated from the impact point. B'Elanna reset the simulation. She heard the door behind her open.

"You're early," she said.

"What?" the wrong voice replied.

B'Elanna turned. "Leslie? Why are you here?"

"I'm Voyager's Chief Science Officer," the blond woman replied. "I thought the captain might like my input."

"I'm sure if she needed your input, she would contact you."

"Still, it doesn't hurt to be ready," Leslie replied.

"If you say so."

The door opened again and Lisa Hununga and Tadao Nureek entered. Lisa made a point of looking around the room.

"Lieutenant Hununga?" B'Elanna said. "And Ensign Nureek. Why are you here?"

"I'm a planetologist," Lisa said. "You are dealing with geology. You may need my help."

"I have diplomatic training," Tadao said.

The door slid open again. Ensign John Barrows entered.

"Ensign Barrows?" B'Elanna said. "Leslie, is the entire science department coming to this presentation?"

"No," she replied. "Just the four of us."

"But we are recording it for the others," Tadao said.

"Why?" B'Elanna asked.

"Phil's presenting a paper," Barrows said. Lisa grunted and cuffed him across the shoulder. He winced and said, "Sorry."

"Phil's papers are that good?" B'Elanna asked.

Leslie shrugged. "We don't know. He never wrote any."

"Really? That's interesting."

"What's interesting?" Phil asked, walking in.

"You," B'Elanna replied.

Phil looked at the members of the science department. "Oh," he said. He walked to the console. "Computer, access Keegan file Seismic Reflection Simulation and upload to this station."

"File loaded."

"Sounds intriguing," B'Elanna said.

"It's just an alternate plan," he replied. The people from the science department laughed. Phil sighed at them.

"Yes," B'Elanna said. "Very intriguing." She tapped her comm. "Commander Chakotay, we are ready in Astrometrics."

"Understood," he replied.

A few minutes later, the captain, the commander and the Quagaar delegates walked into Astrometrics smiling. The captain's eyes gave the science department members a moment, then she introduced the delegates to B'Elanna and Phil.

"Lieutenant Torres is Voyager's Chief Engineer," the captain said. "We will hear her plan first. Lieutenant Keegan is the head of our Computer Core. I've asked him to provide an alternate plan. I trust Lieutenant Torres completely, but I'm interested in seeing what Lieutenant Keegan can do. I've recently become aware of his interest in science, and I want to help him develop it."

"A generous action," the Fore Minister of the Quagaar High Council replied.

"Thank you," Captain Janeway said. "This is my Chief Science Officer, Lieutenant Leslie Willis. She and the members of her department will help evaluate Lieutenant Keegan's plan." She motioned B'Elanna to the main console.

B'Elanna proceeded with her demonstration, explaining the effects of the torpedoes along the way. "As you can see," she finished, pointing to the main screen in Astrometrics, "Firing a photon torpedo with essentially a minimal load will dissipate much of the trapped energy in your main fault line."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," said the Fore Minister, his beak snapping softly. "How long will this repair last?"

"We estimate sixty-two years," B'Elanna replied. The Quagaar beaks snapped positively.

The captain called Phil forward. He looked at B'Elanna strangely as he walked to the console, as if asking for her forgiveness. He tapped the console, and the graphic changed to show hundreds of dots scattered along either side of the fault line.

"It is possible to continuously dissipate the energy of the fault line by placing dilithium reflectors at these points," he began. "The reflectors redistribute the trapped energy of the fault into the surrounding soil and convert much of that energy into heat." He explained the design and placement of the reflectors and showed the effect of the reflectors on the soil. "Ambient temperature in the area would increase about three degrees."

"Will this prevent quakes?" the Fore Minister asked.

"No, you'll have hundreds a day, so weak you'll never feel them," Keegan replied.

"Could this be done on all of the fault lines?" the Mid-Aft Minister asked with a hissing and a snap.

"No. The reflectors would start to cancel each other out. This can only be done on the six major fault lines. You'll still have quakes, but nothing like you have now." The lieutenant tapped the console again, and the graphic changed to show the final effect.

The Aft-Central Minister stepped forward. "Isn't that dilithium scheduled to go to you?"

Keegan waved at the screen. "You need only two thirds for this line, and you have more than enough in the ground for the rest."

"We will accept additional food and medical supplies as well as some technical components in place of the dilithium," the captain said. The Aft-Central Minister nodded.

"It seems your insight was correct," the Fore-Minister said to Captain Janeway. The Fore Minister snapped graciously at the captain, Chakotay and the two lieutenants. "We thank you for what you have done," he said. "Captain Janeway, I offer you this hand carved bone that I extracted from my own grandfather. He will be honored to know you have it."

She smiled and took the carved leg bone. "On behalf of the Federation, I accept."

Commander Chakotay stepped forward. "We have a state dinner prepared for you. If you will please follow me."

The captain watched them leave, promising to join them in a moment. "Have you considered transferring to the Science Department?" she asked Keegan.

"We'd love to have him back," Leslie Willis said.

"Back?" Janeway said to Keegan.

"I felt I was needed in Engineering, Captain," he replied.

"Why did you leave Engineering?"

"You had no one in the Computer Core. I knew I could do the job."

"B'Elanna," the captain said to her Chief Engineer. "What do you think of Lieutenant Keegan's plan?"

"It's a geologist's answer," she replied.

"A scientist's answer," the captain said. "Specific to the task."

"Yes," B'Elanna said.

The captain smiled. "As opposed to an engineer's plan which is quick and dirty."

"Yes, sir," B'Elanna said.

"Did he do work like this for you?" Janeway said to Lieutenant Willis.

"No," she said. "He never presented a paper."

"Very interesting," the captain said. "And thank you for coming. Please, join the dinner. Mister Keegan, may I speak with you?"

Kathryn examined the simulation. She watched the stress waves bounce against each other along the fault and the simple fractal they created. "Cochrane's Unclaimed Thesis?" she asked.

"Just a hobby."

"What do you think of it?"

He shrugged. "It needs work."

Janeway almost choked on that. "I know some scientists that say it's his best paper."

"First of all, it's not his. Second, his paper on sub-space harmonics is much better."

"But the Unclaimed Thesis gave Cochrane, and all Starfleet vessels, their power core."

"It's an anti-matter reactor. Scientists thought of that in the twentieth century. Someone would have built the reactor eventually. The thesis just gave them a head start. But Cochrane didn't understand reactors. He understood sub-space and how to manipulate it. He was a theoretician, not an engineer."

"That's almost blasphemy on a Federation Starship."

"You can flog me if you like."

"I'll take that under advisement. Shall we go to the party?" She waved in the direction of the door.

"Certainly, Captain."

"And, Mister Keegan—"

"I will keep my opinions to myself."

"Thank you."

* * *

While the captain and Chakotay negotiated a new deal with the Quagaar Center Minister of Economics, the other ministers spoke amiably with the officers about some of the sights Voyager had seen. The Center-Fore Minister of War spoke with Mr. Tuvok about battles the crew had survived. The Mid-Aft Minister of Science and the Center-Aft Minister of Geology spoke with Lieutenant Keegan about his plan. Lieutenant Keegan answered well and threw back five glasses of synthehol. He winced when he swallowed and asked for another glass.

"Someone mentioned you're interested in power systems," the Mid-Aft Minister said.

"It's a hobby," the lieutenant said and swallowed another glass.

"I have much interest in these things," the minister said. "Is the fuel ratio always one-to-one?"

"No." He drank another glass and coughed through his teeth. "If we start the engines cold, we release a large amount of normal matter into the reactor and feed in a trickle of anti-matter. This allows a slow steady buildup of energy." He swallowed another glass. "But, if we need a sudden burst of energy, we can open some stored magnetic bottles. The extra normal matter gives the released anti-matter something to react with."

"Is this dangerous?"

"It hasn't been dangerous for decades."

The minister clacked and nodded. "Most interesting."

"Perhaps you should speak with our Chief Engineer, B'Elanna Torres. She knows much more about the warp core than I do. B'Elanna? Could you come here?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?" B'Elanna said.

"The Mid-Aft Minister is interested in the reactor core. Perhaps you could discuss it with him?"

"'Her,' Lieutenant," the minister corrected.

"My apologies. I will leave you in B'Elanna's hands while I refill my drink."

Lieutenant Keegan walked toward the bar, and in the general direction of the door. He passed Tuvok and the War Minister as he did.

"You say this is called Tri-D chess?"

"Yes, Minister," the Vulcan responded.

"Lieutenant Keegan, do you play?"

The lieutenant said something that sounded to Tuvok like the word "Shit." The security chief believed he was mistaken.

Tuvok turned to the minister. "I taught Lieutenant Keegan myself five years ago."

"Lieutenant," the War Minister said. "Would you honor us with a game?"

The lieutenant looked down at his feet and took a slow breath. He looked up and said, "I would be happy to, Minister."

Captain Janeway walked over to them. "Did I hear something about a game?"

"Yes, Captain," Tuvok said. "The War Minister has asked to see a game, and Lieutenant Keegan has offered to play."

"Interesting," the captain said. "Who will be your opponent, Lieutenant?"

"I will, Captain," Seven of Nine said. "I have studied the game, but I have not yet had a chance to test my skills."

"I'm sure you'll go easy on her, won't you, Lieutenant?" Janeway said.

"No, Captain," he replied in a defeated voice. "I'm going to dig her a grave and throw her in."

"Yes, Lieutenant," the captain said, smiling. "I'm sure you will."

Lieutenant Paris leaned over to Tuvok. "I wish the Quagaar were a betting people."

"You wish to take advantage of our guests?"

"No reason I can't have fun too," Tom said.

"Betting is inappropriate at a state dinner."

"Vulcans have no sense of fun."

Seven moved her first piece cautiously. Keegan stared at the board a moment and moved a piece. Seven felt her way among the pieces and moved again. Phil closed his eyes in contemplation, opened them and moved. Seven paused at the new move, waited, thought and finally moved. Phil moved again without hesitating. Seven returned, and the two began moving pieces without pausing.

After thirty moves, Tom Paris said, "Who's winning?"

"Seven," Tuvok replied. "I believe they are reproducing the Vimmtir-T'Mel match of twenty-two-oh-six. Seven will win on the forty-seventh move." Phil inclined his head toward Tuvok, as if he had heard the exchange.

"How much of the game have you studied, Annika?" Phil asked.

Seven blinked at her name. "All of the major matches."

"When was this?" he said, holding a rook.

"Four months ago," she said.

"That's not enough," he said. He placed the rook.

"I have an eidetic memory," she replied while lifting a bishop up a level.

"So do I. That's not what I meant." He sacrificed a pawn.

"I didn't know that," Tom whispered.

"Nor did I," Tuvok replied.

"Someone had to create those games, Annika," Keegan said. "Reading them is not enough."

"I am aware of that, Mister Keegan," she said. She took his bishop with her knight.

"Have you read Vimmtir's description of this match, Annika?" he asked casually and moved his rook.

"No, Lieutenant." She moved again.

"She called it her worst mistake," he said and moved another piece.

"Vimmtir won," Seven replied and moved.

"That was T'Mel's mistake," Phil said. He watched Seven for a time before moving his piece. Seven watched the board as if unable to move.

"What happened?" Tom whispered.

Tuvok said, "Mister Keegan moved his knight when he should have moved his bishop."

"What does that mean for the game?"

"I am unfamiliar with the current board configuration."

Seven moved cautiously again. Lieutenant Keegan followed without hesitation. After twelve moves, he called checkmate in a tired voice.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant," Seven said.

"Thank you. You played well."

"Mister Keegan," the captain said. "I had no idea."

"Yes, I know. The party seems to be breaking up. You'll excuse me please."

"Yes, of course," Janeway said. "Are you all right?"

"I've been better." He walked away before she could respond.

"Phil," Tom said. "Very nice. I wanted to bet against you."

"I know. Do you know where I can get some real alcohol?"

Tom said, "Neelix has some, I think. I didn't know you drank."

"Neelix you say? Thanks." He walked towards the galley. He spoke with the Talaxian briefly, took a bottle and left.

"Is Mister Keegan all right?" the Fore-Minister asked.

"Yes," Captain Janeway said. "I'm sure he's fine."

"A very interesting game," the Fore-Minister said. "Captain?"

"I'm sorry, Fore-Minister. Yes, an interesting game. He plays very well." She watched the door. "Much better than I expected."

* * *

Philip Keegan pounded his fists into a holographic practice dummy two days later. His shirt and pants were dark with sweat. His fists, elbows and feet struck hard enough to bend the padded figure in two. He turned briefly when the doors of the holodeck opened, then continued his attack.

"Lieutenant Keegan," Seven said, walking to him.

He blew sweat from his nose. "What is it, Annika?"

"Your assistance is required in Astrometrics."

"Fucking hell!" He punched his hand through the dummy. He put his other hand on the dummy's neck and pulled his arm out. "I'm not on duty for another hour."

"I will expect you in an hour, Mister Keegan."

"Is there any reason B'Elanna couldn't do this?" He took a towel and wiped the perspiration from his face.

"Yes. Lieutenant Torres is overseeing the transport of the new supplies."

"Fine," he said. "I'll see you in an hour."

He walked into Astrometrics an hour later fresh from a shower. He carried a standard repair kit.

"What's the problem, Annika?"

Seven stood at one of the side consoles.

"These consoles had new components installed three weeks ago. They are malfunctioning. Their repair requires two technicians."

"I know. I'm familiar with the components." He walked to a console, dropped down and pulled off the access panel. "Why am I here?"

"Two are required—"

"I know, Annika, but any technician could do this job. Why do you want me here?"

"I wanted to ask you some questions about your comments."

"Such as?" He pulled a panel out and ran a welder across it.

"'Get laid, get wasted'?"

"It's a colloquialism. It means have sex and get drunk. Although, it's easier the other way around."

"I do not enjoy intoxication," she told him.

"Or that inflection I suggested. As for sex, you have a few options."

"I have not found anyone compatible among the crew."

"You could always try the holodeck." He put the panel back.

"I am reluctant to do so."

"There's the old fashioned way." He pulled out another panel.

"What?"

"I'll let you figure that out on your own. Most people do anyway."

"What is a 'penthouse pet'?" she said.

He leaned out and looked at her cautiously. "You don't want to know. Check the relay."

"Seventeen percent improvement. I am not sixteen."

"What?" He leaned out again.

"Chronologically, I am eighteen."

"Oh. Sorry." He returned to the panel.

"How did you know which match I chose?"

He examined another panel. "Because you didn't choose it. I did. I guided you to a match I knew I could win."

"But the number of matches from my initial moves was—"

"A little over two thousand. I know." He replaced the panel and took out another. "You never went through puberty, did you?"

"I emerged from the Borg growth chamber fully adult."

"No wonder you have so many problems dating. Check the second relay."

"Twenty-one percent improvement. What do you mean?"

He looked up again. "Puberty is more than just physical changes. There are emotional changes as well. I'm surprised the Doctor didn't mention that."

"What emotional changes?" she said.

"An obsession with horses and a sudden urge to pass little notes to someone sitting behind you."

"Excuse me?"

He shook his head. "Romantic interaction is about understanding your likes and dislikes and trying to match them with your partner's likes and dislikes. You don't know what you like. How could your partner know? It's like trying to play an instrument when you've never heard music before."

"What is your suggestion?"

"Go to the Doctor, get some artificial hormones and try out some social encounters on the holodeck."

"How long will this take?" she said.

He shrugged. "About six years."

"And what do I do in the meantime?"

"Home relaxation equipment."

"What?"

"You'll figure it out," he said.

Seven stared for a moment before continuing. "Forty-four percent improvement. How did you come up with the solution to the Quagaar problem so quickly?"

"I've studied geology, and I followed B'Elanna's work."

"Fifty-three percent improvement," she said. "Why have you lied to everyone?"

"Because I'm hiding a past so horrible, being a hermit is better than the alternative," he murmured into the console.

"What is this past?"

He sighed. "That was a joke, Annika. I'm a private person. I like to stay that way. Check the relay."

"Sixty-eight percent. Your privacy is interfering with the efficiency of Voyager's operation."

"So is your inability to deal with your past," he said.

"I have dealt with my past on several occasions."

"Bullshit, Annika."

"What does—"

"Another colloquialism. I'll make you a deal. I'll become a less private person, if you watch home movies of your life before you were a Borg."

Seven said, "Eighty-one percent. I will take your suggestion under consideration." She tapped the console a few times. "What are the common likes and dislikes of a partner?"

"Don't worry. You've already got most of the 'likes'." He scratched his head. "It helps if you have similar tastes in music or literature for example."

"I have an interest in certain technical journals. I understand you do as well."

"That's not enough," he said. "Find some fiction you like."

"Reading fiction is an inefficient use of time, and it is rarely accurate."

Keegan sighed. "If it were accurate, it would be history. It exists for the emotional stability and intellectual development of the reader. Read some fiction. It will help you become more human."

"Very well. I will read fiction. The relays are now functioning normally."

"I'm glad something is. Good-day, Miss Hansen." He walked out before she could respond.


	4. The Discovery Part 4

"Seven?" the captain said. "Are you okay?"

"I just came from a conversation with Mister Keegan."

Tom shook his head. "He's like a disease."

"What did he say, Seven?" the captain asked.

"He explained some of his comments from the dinner."

"Is that bothering you?" Chakotay asked.

"No," Seven said. "He also suggested I read fiction to better understand human nature."

"I've made that recommendation to you before," Janeway said.

"I know. He made other suggestions pertaining to my emotional development."

"Something offensive?" Tom asked.

"Perhaps, Mister Paris. Do you know what 'home relaxation equipment' is?"

Tom coughed hard for several seconds and said, "No."

"I'll explain it later," B'Elanna said. "But, is Phil bothering you?"

Seven shook her head. "His comments have no significant emotional effect on me. I am bothered by the way he walks and moves. I am bothered by the chess match."

"Are you upset he beat you?" Harry said.

"Defeat is not an entirely new experience for me, Ensign, but nothing about Lieutenant Keegan indicated this level of skill."

"You said you were bothered by how he moves?" Chakotay said.

"He does not move as a human. His actions are too precise. He reminds me more of a Vulcan." She nodded to Tuvok. "Or a Borg. His eye movements are also tactical. I have noticed that only among humans who are being duplicitous."

Janeway shook her head. "I am becoming more and more bothered by this. Commander," the captain said. "Did Mister Keegan do anything like this when he was with the Maquis?"

"He wasn't part of the Maquis," Chakotay said.

"That's not possible," she replied. "I memorized the crew roster before taking command."

"He indicated to me he was Maquis," Tuvok said.

"You didn't know him?" Janeway asked.

"I didn't let Tuvok know all of my team," Chakotay said. "In case he was a spy."

"When did he tell you this?" the captain said to Tuvok.

"When he transferred to Security," the Vulcan replied.

"That's four departments this man has been in," Janeway said.

"Five, Captain," Tuvok corrected. "He began in Maintenance."

"Why did he leave Security?" Chakotay asked.

"He did not consider it a challenge," Tuvok said. "He also was required to kill in the course of his duties. He told me he did not like that."

"Did he perform well in Security?" Chakotay continued.

"He did. In an effort to keep him in Security, I recommended him for Field Promotion."

"How did he do on the Psych Evaluation?" Janeway said.

"He showed signs of remorse, and feelings of persecution and paranoia."

"That didn't bother you?" Chakotay said.

"No," Tuvok said. "I have seen similar emotions in other members of the Maquis. Humans call it penance. It often helps their work. In any case, Mister Keegan controlled his emotions more effectively than most humans. They never affected his work."

"Did you review his past?" Janeway said.

"You ordered me not to, Captain," Tuvok said. "You told me we could not integrate the crews if we reviewed the crimes of the Maquis."

"You found nothing else unusual about him?" the captain said.

"I did," Tuvok replied. "Mister Keegan uses a telepathic shield."

"Those are only experimental," Janeway said.

Chakotay said, "I didn't think a human had the mental discipline required to make it work."

"Mister Keegan has the necessary discipline," Tuvok said. "I am personally aware of the effectiveness of the device. I can normally sense humans in close proximity. I cannot sense Mister Keegan."

"Did he explain why he has it?" Chakotay said.

"He told me he did not want to be reminded of his past. Many Maquis feel that way, though no others have gone to this extreme. Still, it is Mister Keegan's mind and his past, and telepathic shields are not specifically disallowed by Starfleet."

"How did he do in Maintenance?" Janeway said.

"Chief Retut made no complaints," Tuvok replied.

"Should we call Mister Keegan here?" Chakotay said.

"Not yet," the captain replied. "B'Elanna, how would you rate the Lieutenant's work?"

"He was one of my best engineers. I was sorry to lose him."

The captain shook her head. "Praise from the two of you for the same man on the same day. I feel like my head will explode." She tapped her comm. "Lieutenant Willis, report to the main Briefing Room."

"Yes, sir," Leslie said.

The captain hit her comm again. "Chief Retut, report to the main Briefing Room."

"Yes, Captain," a man's voice said.

Kathryn leaned back and waited.

"Captain?" Seven said, "What is the controversy with Cochrane's Unclaimed Thesis?"

"You surprise me, Seven. I thought you would know that," she replied.

"I am familiar with the thesis, but I have not read its history."

"Well," the captain said. "Zephram Cochrane was looking for a power system for the Phoenix. He tried fusion reactors, but none of them were powerful enough. Out of nowhere, he comes up with a paper on anti-matter reactors that reads like nothing he'd ever written. Instead of using the information himself, he gives it over to a team of engineers. They build the world's first anti-matter reactor. Doctor Cochrane builds the Phoenix. Years later, in an interview, his last before he disappeared, someone asked him about the paper. His response was, 'How many times do I have to tell you people? I never wrote the damn thing.' Scientists and historians have been debating it ever since."

Retut and Willis arrived together. The captain turned to her Chief of Maintenance first.

"Mister Retut," the captain began. "Do you remember Philip Keegan?"

"Yes, Captain. A greener cadet I've never seen. He couldn't tell you a wrench from a spanner."

"Is that why you transferred him to Security?" Chakotay asked.

"No, sir. By the time he transferred, he was one of my best workers. I fought to keep him with me."

"Then, why did he leave?" Janeway asked.

"He thought Security would be more challenging."

"Lieutenant Willis," the captain asked. "What can you tell me about Mister Keegan?"

"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him," she said.

"He saved you at some point?" Chakotay asked.

"No, he transferred," Willis replied. "If he hadn't gone to Engineering, he would have been Chief Science Officer."

"He's a lot younger than you," Chakotay said.

"Yes, he is," Leslie replied.

"Did he give a reason for this transfer?" Janeway said.

"He didn't like the pristine nature of the science lab. He wanted to get his hands dirty with engineering."

"Thank you, for the information, both of you." The captain took a deep breath. "Computer, what record do you have of Lieutenant Keegan before Voyager?"

"There is no record of Lieutenant Keegan prior to his appearance on Voyager."

"When was that?"

"Stardate four-eight-three-one-six-point-nine."

"Could he be something the Caretaker planted?" Chakotay asked.

"Or the Caretaker himself?" B'Elanna said.

"Why expose himself?" Chakotay asked.

Kathryn shook her head. "I saw him risk his life to save Ensign Nureek."

"He risked his life many times in Security," Tuvok added.

"And in Engineering," B'Elanna said.

"Did you see any unusual behavior?"

"He was quiet and did his job well," B'Elanna said.

"You punched him," Janeway said. "How did that happen?"

"It was a bar fight. He walked in on it. I threw a fist at him."

"What did he do?" Janeway asked.

"Well...," B'Elanna began.

"He caught her fist," Harry said. "Stopped it cold."

"Did he now?" Janeway said. "I have heard more than enough." She tapped her comm. "Lieutenant Keegan, report the main Briefing Room."

"On my way," he replied. When he arrived, he looked around the room cautiously. "Captain?" he asked.

"Why does Voyager have no record of you?" she said.

"Oh, that."

"Mister Keegan?" Janeway asked.

"I'm from Fyushal Four," he said.

"Enlighten me," the captain replied.

"Fyushal Four is a regressive colony. They have abandoned all technology," Keegan continued.

"I thought Fyushal was a vacation spot," Tom said.

"It is," Keegan replied. "Burnt out scientists, politicians, Starfleet officers, what have you, will go to Fyushal to relax. Some of them will stay for a few months. Some for a whole year. My parents never left. I was born and raised there, and, when I became an adult, I couldn't wait to leave."

"What did your parents say?" Tom asked.

"My desire to leave was about as surprising as your marriage to B'Elanna. They could tell I wanted to leave when I was six."

"And how did you get on Voyager?" Chakotay asked.

"Fyushal is near the Contested Systems," Keegan said. "And the Badlands. The freighter that was taking me to Deep Space Nine passed through there on its route."

"And the Caretaker grabbed you," Janeway finished.

"Exactly," he said. "When I found myself on Voyager, confused, alone, and isolated between the two factions in the crew, I decided I would not be a burden. I refused to let either side treat me as an incompetent. I didn't want them to—"

"Coddle you?" the captain said.

"Yes."

"You've had seven years to prove yourself, Mister Keegan. Why continue to hide it?" Janeway asked.

"I haven't. No one has asked about it for six years. I considered telling people, but I couldn't get past the idea I would embarrass someone. At some point, I decided to wait to be asked." He shrugged. "This is a little more dramatic than I imagined. I hope I didn't bother you."

The captain shook her head. "Just a little."

"Why do you move in a manner unlike a human?" Seven asked.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I've been training under high gravity."

"That's not allowed," Janeway said. "The health risks—"

"I know, Captain," the lieutenant said. "I was nearly beaten to death during a Kazon attack. It made me feel like I couldn't pull my weight. I knew the regulations, but I wanted to be ready for anything."

"You will stop immediately," the captain said.

"But that doesn't explain how you were able to learn all of this so quickly," Chakotay said. "Or why you tried to hide what you could do."

"I learn fast, because I have an eidetic memory. I didn't want you to know how skilled I was, because you would take more notice of me. Then Annika would take notice of me, and she would see the effects of the high-gee training. I also reprogrammed the Doctor so he wouldn't notice it when he examined me."

"That's quite a series of crimes," Chakotay said.

"Yes, sir."

"You interfered with the development of a sentient lifeform, Mister Keegan," the captain said. "I don't take kindly to that. I'm not happy with the rest of your crimes, but I understand them. For the high-gee training and the deception, you will be reduced in rank to Lieutenant, Junior Grade. You will be removed from the Computer Core, and we will find something else for you to do. And, you will tell B'Elanna what you did to the Doctor."

"Yes, Captain."

"I will decide your punishment for the reprogramming after B'Elanna evaluates its effect on the Doctor's development." To the rest of the room, she said, "I would like to talk to Mister Keegan privately." After they left, she motioned for him to sit down. "I still think you can be a benefit to the senior staff. I want you back in the science department. I'm going to give you a probationary period. When it's up, I want to move you to the bridge. I want you at the science station during gamma shift."

"Captain?"

"You went from a farm boy education to understanding, and criticizing, Cochrane in only a few years. You have a lot of potential. Voyager needs you."

"You're... promoting... me," he said slowly.

"At the end of your probationary period, yes. Your work with the Quagaar was excellent. Worthy of the position. And, you saved Ensign Nureek at risk to your own life. You may have been forced into this job, but you're one of the best young officers I've seen. What do you say?"

"Do you know the real reason I transferred out of the science department? Leslie Willis wanted to be Chief Science Officer more than I've ever seen anyone want anything. Every department I went to, I found people who wanted to be there. They loved what they were doing. The Computer Core was the only empty part of the ship. I don't want someone angry because they think I stole their place."

"That's not good enough, Mister Keegan. If you had made it to Earth, would you have joined Starfleet?"

He hit the table, pushed his chair back and stood up. He turned away as if he wanted to leave, but he didn't go anywhere.

"Yes," he said in a whisper.

"Mister Keegan?"

"Starfleet is everything I could have wanted."

"I think that's the most honest thing you've ever said to me."

He laughed, weakly. "If you learn all my tricks, how will I ever surprise you?"

"You'll find something."

"Only if you don't find it first." He turned back. "How long is my probation?"

"Three months."

"I'm certain I'll surprise you before then. Am I free to go?"

"Yes, Mister Keegan. Dismissed."

* * *

Philip walked to the turbolift, and found Tom and B'Elanna standing there.

"How did it go?" she asked as they stepped on.

"Three months' probation. Then I get a promotion. Deck Seven."

"Deck Six. Not bad." The lift began to move.

"I'll have that information on the Doctor to you in a few hours."

"He'll be happy to know."

Tom looked at his wife. She shrugged. "Would you like to join us in the mess hall for dinner?" he asked.

"Yes. I'd love to. Do I scare you?"

"No," Tom said. "Why would you?"

"What would it take for you to be afraid of me?"

"You're starting to scare me now," Tom said.

"Not much, then. B'Elanna, do you ever miss being in the Maquis?"

"I miss my friends," she said.

"That's too easy an answer. Do you ever miss being a part of the Maquis itself? The group and what they fought for?"

"Sometimes, I guess. Why?"

"Are you happy about where you are?" Keegan asked.

"I love my husband and our daughter." She leaned into Tom, and he put his arm around her.

"Easy answers again," Keegan said. "You ran away from the Academy. Now, you're the Chief Engineer of a Federation Starship. Are you happy about that?"

"I don't know," B'Elanna said.

"Yes you do," the lieutenant replied. "Starfleet fought the Maquis, now you work for them. How does that make you feel?"

"We're just trying to survive here," she said.

"When we get back to the Alpha Quadrant, do you still want to be the Chief Engineer aboard a Federation Starship?"

She shook her head. "I haven't decided yet."

"I have."

They stood silently for a time. The turbolift stopped but neither Tom nor B'Elanna got off. The doors closed and they started moving again.

"B'Elanna said you were reading the Unclaimed Thesis."

"No," Keegan said. "I have been rewriting it."

B'Elanna perked up. "I'd love to read what you've done."

"I know. I'll include it with the material on the Doctor." The lift stopped again and the lieutenant stepped off. When the doors closed, and he saw he was alone, he hit the wall hard enough to crack it.

* * *

"What are you reading?" Chakotay said.

Janeway looked up smiling. "B'Elanna gave this to me. It's Lieutenant Keegan's treatment of Cochrane's Unclaimed Thesis. It's brilliant. I've never seen this level of understanding of the material. It's poetic." She handed the PADD over.

Chakotay read a little. "I can see why he doesn't think Cochrane wrote it."

"I know. I'm going to ask him to give a discussion on it. I haven't been to a scientific debate in seven years. I think a lot of people on board will really enjoy it."

"So why do you look uncomfortable?" he asked.

"His story about MIT."

"Perhaps one of his parents went there."

"That's what he'll say," she replied.

"Do you think he's an infiltrator?"

She shook her head. "An infiltrator would have a background, but there are holes in his story I can't fill up. Why did he study medicine to become the ship's doctor if he doesn't want anyone to notice him? Why did he hide his past for so long? It's not that important. He earned that field commission from Tuvok. He's a member of Starfleet whether he went to the Academy or not. He can write something like this and still say he doesn't like science."

"Kathryn, you're going to have to decide if this man's secret is more important than the officer you might lose."

"I have to do what's best for the ship." She turned her coffee mug around a few times, trying to find inspiration in the squeak. "Computer, how many students named Philip Keegan have attended the Massachusetts Institute of Technology?"

"That information is not available."

Chakotay shook his head.

"Access the Auxiliary Core," the captain said.

"The requested information is not available."

"Access the protected memory archives."

"The requested file was damaged in a Kazon attack on Stardate four-nine-nine-one-five-point-three."

The captain sighed.

"We can use the next data transfer," Chakotay said.

"I know. That's ten days away. Some of the senior staff will have to lose letters from home."

"My relatives never have anything interesting to say anyway."

"We are sure about this?" the captain asked.

He raised his coffee mug. "Here's hoping it's all coincidence."

* * *

"Lieutenant Keegan?" the captain said, walking into the mess hall. "Mister Neelix told me someone was using the galley after hours."

"Hello, Captain." He raised a drinking glass to her.

"Have you been drinking?"

"Yes, and I hate alcohol." He emptied his glass and poured another drink.

"Are you okay?"

"Hell yes! It takes more than this to get me drunk. I have the constitution of a bull elephant. How about you?"

"I read your treatment of the Unclaimed Thesis."

"I thought you would."

"Your work is brilliant," she said walking over to him.

"It should be."

"Excuse me?"

"No, Captain, excuse me." He drank the last of the alcohol and threw his glass at the wall. But, being transparent aluminum, it dented the wall and bounced off. "Oh, hell," he said.

"I think this is glass," she said, tapping the bottle.

He picked it up, cocked his arm back and set it back down on the table. "No, I lost the urge."

"Can I get someone to help you? Should I call security?"

"No," he said. "Not yet."

"Mister Keegan, you continue to puzzle me."

"And you continue to play with the pieces."

"What does that mean?"

"Persistence is a virtue," he said.

"That's patience."

"Persistent patients are virtuous." He picked up the bottle again and aimed for the door. It opened and B'Elanna Torres walked in. He stopped mid throw and said, "Goddammit."

"Phil?" B'Elanna said. "Captain?"

"Are you here about unauthorized galley use too?" the lieutenant asked.

"No," B'Elanna replied. "I had a craving."

Phil stood up and walked over to her. He took her by the shoulders.

"You know," he said, "I could have really gone for you."

"Phil?"

"I mean it. The first time I saw you, I thought, 'That is a lovely lady.' And I mean 'lady'. I really do. Tom's a lucky guy." He put a hand on her stomach.

"Are you drunk, Phil?"

"No, I'm not. I like you, B'Elanna." He turned around. "I like you too, Captain."

"Thank you, Mister Keegan."

"I'm a good officer," he said.

"Yes, Phil, you are," B'Elanna said.

"I have to agree with B'Elanna, Mister Keegan."

He sighed. "I'm a _damn_ good officer."

"Yes, you are, Lieutenant," the captain said.

"I should be," he replied.

"What?" B'Elanna said.

"What did Tom do anyway?" Phil asked her.

"What do you mean?" she said.

"To get him thrown into prison."

"He doesn't like to talk about it," B'Elanna replied. "Is it important?"

"No, it's not," Keegan said. "No one cares. No one cares at all anymore. You don't care, do you, Captain?"

"No, Mister Keegan, I don't."

He let go of B'Elanna and walked to the window.

"I like space," he said, staring out. "I always wanted to go to space. I just really liked the idea of it."

"I know exactly how you feel," Kathryn said. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes, Captain, I'll be fine." He walked to his table, picked up the bottle and threw it at a wall. It shattered. Small bots emerged to clean up the glass.

"Feel better?" B'Elanna asked.

"No, I just needed closure." He let out a loose, hard breath and shook his head clear. "So, what were you hungry for?"

B'Elanna shrugged. "Something salty or maybe something spicy."

Keegan was behind the galley in a few steps. "I know just the thing."

"You can cook?" B'Elanna asked.

"It's a great way to impress women," he replied.

"You should tell Tom that."

"Why? He's already got you. Captain, did you want in on this?"

"Without question, Mister Keegan."

"Great. I hope the two of you like Mexican omelets." He put a pan on the stove and threw some oil into it. "Remember, Mexican means spicy. Don't either one of you expect to sleep after this."

The captain smiled. "I'm looking forward to it, Lieutenant."


	5. The Discovery Part 5

"Hazelnut," the captain said, holding her mug.

"Hazelnut?" her first officer repeated.

"I have asked the replicator for hazelnut coffee for seven years. It finally got it right."

"That would be Lieutenant Keegan's work," Chakotay said. "B'Elanna told me he went through the Computer Core and Engineering and rebuilt every system he could. Warp efficiency has improved eight percent. Power systems, replicators, the holodeck, almost everything has improved. After Engineering, he went to the Science Department. He finished about three months' worth of work."

"Quite a turnaround," Janeway said.

"How did the debate go?"

"He lost me several times. I think only B'Elanna and Seven understood all of it."

"Do you still want that information from Starfleet?"

She nodded. "More than ever. I can't believe he would want to hide this much potential."

"Has he been drinking?"

"Not since that night."

Chakotay examined his coffee. "The same day you tried to access his files."

"I noticed that too."

Chakotay said, "I asked Tuvok to review some of Mister Keegan's stories. He found no report of a Kazon severely injuring the Lieutenant. He always showed exceptional skill in combat."

Kathryn nodded again. She looked out her window, imagining she could see Earth and Reg Barclay preparing his wormhole. "We'll know by this afternoon."

* * *

The door to Philip Keegan's quarters buzzed.

"Come in," he said.

"Lieutenant?" the captain said.

He looked up from a console. A model of a Starship was sitting next to him. "What can I do for you, Captain?"

"I was walking past, and I realized I'd never seen your quarters."

"Where were you headed?"

She shook her head. "Sometimes I hate that mind of yours."

"I get a lot of that. How can I help you?"

She walked to an easel and lifted a cloth off the canvas. "Yours?"

"I've been trying to paint. I find it technically accurate, but it lacks emotion."

"It's very good. I see you play the violin."

"I play nine instruments. I'm just now learning the Vulcan harp."

"How do you find it?" she said.

"It's designed mostly for meditation. Good for certain types of music, but not very versatile."

She picked up two books. "Plato. The Rubaiyat. In their original texts? That must be difficult."

"I never read translations. It's something my grandfather taught me. They're always tainted by interpretation, even if you use the Universal Translator."

"Do you read many languages?" she asked.

"Seventeen. I'm learning Vulcan now, so I can read Surak."

"Not many people learn Vulcan as a hobby."

"I like a challenge," he replied.

"I've noticed that." She looked around the room, at the artwork, the Starship on his desk. Two other ships rested on a shelf on his wall. "You design Starships?"

"Another hobby."

"Interesting designs. What are they?"

He pointed to each in turn. "The Rodriquez, a battleship. The Lin, a medical frigate. The MacPherson, exploration. I named them for some cousins of mine."

"That's a diverse family."

"Yes, it is."

"The warp configuration doesn't prevent damage to sub-space," she commented.

"There's no reason to. I read the account of that. I think the researcher was paranoid, too obsessed with her own work. By conservative estimate, this galaxy has had warp capable civilizations for a billion years. If the deterioration were as extreme as Serova claimed, it would be one solid anomaly core to rim. The simple answer is sub-space repairs itself. In case I'm wrong, the Lin has a system in it to facilitate repair of sub-space rather than eliminate damage."

"Does it work?"

"Yes, but it reduces maximum speed to Warp two point five. But, I just started on it. I'll need time to work out the bugs."

She examined the ship. Four engines, asymmetric in design and placement. It had a beauty to it.

"We could send your work to Starfleet."

"I don't think they'll want it. They should concentrate on transwarp. I suspect that bypasses the problem entirely."

"Why wouldn't they want it?"

"Just a hunch, Captain. Why did you want to see me?"

"We're about to make the data transfer. I was wondering if I could send your analysis of the Unclaimed Thesis."

"Certainly, Captain."

"Thank you." She walked to the door. "Mister Keegan?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Should I look for anything from home?"

"My family is very hard to reach," he said.

"Of course. Good-day, Lieutenant."

"Captain. It was nice speaking with you."

She nodded and walked out.

* * *

"Phil!" Lieutenant Hununga said. "Where are you headed in such a hurry?"

"Lisa. I just have some work to do."

"Today's the big day. Data transfer. Expecting anything important?"

"One or two things. Lisa, there's something I've wanted to do." He took her by the waist, pulled her close, and kissed her. He took his time with it, cupping the back of her head and memorizing the scent of her hair.

"Wow. Phil." She put her hand on his chest. "Dinner later?"

"If I'm able. You never know what the day will bring."

"Here's hoping it brings more of that."

He sighed and raised his hands. "I've got to go." He left at a good pace.

* * *

"Captain?" Reginald Barclay said, his voice a hollow buzz in the wormhole. "Are you certain you want that information?"

"Yes, Mister Barclay."

"Instead of the letters from your family?"

"Yes, Reg."

"And Mister Tuvok and Mister Chakotay have agreed?"

"Yes, Reg, and you're eating up the time."

"The information will be transferred directly to your desk. Are you sure? It would save space going to the Computer Core."

"I'm sure."

"Yes, Captain. Beginning transfer."

Her screen changed to a list of names, all Keegan, all students at MIT. She read down the list. The first was in his forties. Not a Philip, but just old enough to be the Lieutenant's father. She wanted to stop there. The first Philip Keegan was in his eighties and retired. His whereabouts easily verified. She read farther down the list, stopping after two centuries of names passed and sighing to herself. Philip Keegan was not two centuries old. Enough, she thought. Too much. She wanted to keep her good officer. She skimmed the rest files while wondering how best to tell her First Officer he was right. She stopped when she found an early twenty-first century file marked "Restricted".

"Computer, who closed this file?"

"Access to that information was restricted by the United Nations in the year two-thousand and six."

"Who is authorized to open the file?" Janeway said.

"A Starfleet officer of captain's rank or higher in time of emergency."

Do what is right for your ship. The voices of her father and every captain she served under repeated in her mind. "Authorization: Janeway, Kathryn, alpha-seven-nine-four-one-two."

"Access granted."

She read over the file. "Keegan, Philip, applied in nineteen eighty-six at age thirteen, graduated age sixteen, applied Master's Program, age sixteen, graduated age eighteen, entered doctoral program age eighteen, never finished. Disappeared age nineteen. Notes to follow." She read on. Accomplishments, papers, family history were all missing, deleted with large blank gaps filling the file. She reached the final notes and paused at the source. "United Nations War Crimes Tribunal?" she read. "'Access to this file is restricted pending determination of—' Oh, my god. Computer! Intruder alert!" She ran to the bridge.

"Captain?" Tuvok said. "I am detecting no intruder."

"Computer, locate Lieutenant Keegan."

"Unable to comply."

"Captain," Tom said. "I'm showing a launch of the Delta Flyer."

"Pursuit course, Mister Paris," she growled. "Maximum warp."

"What did that file say?" Chakotay asked.

"Mister Paris, why isn't my ship moving?"

"Impulse engines and warp core are off-line," he replied.

"Weapons, shields and sensors are also off-line," Tuvok said.

"Turbolifts are off-line," Harry said. "Communications are being jammed. All systems are powering down. We still have life support."

The lights went out. They stood in silence in the red of the alarm until the auxiliary lights came on.

"Harry, Seven," the captain said. "I want you in Engineering. Fill B'Elanna in. Help out where you can. Chakotay, Tom, go through the rest of the ship. Form parties, no less than four people each. Make sure everyone has phasers set to heavy stun. Find out if Mister Keegan is still on board. Orders are to shoot on sight. If he is rendered unconscious, get backup. Do not approach him under any circumstances. Tuvok, you're with me. We're going to the Shuttle Bay to see if any are still working. Let's move."

"Captain," Chakotay said. "it would help if we knew what Mister Keegan has done."

"It's not what he's done." The words ground in her throat. "It's what he is. Everyone, you have your orders." She walked to the access ladder before they could respond.

They were three levels down before Tuvok spoke.

"Captain," he said. "What exactly is Mister Keegan?"

"You'd never believe me."

"You know that is not true, Captain."

"Consider Mister Keegan one of the most dangerous enemies to come aboard this ship."

"You are hindering my abilities. I must ask why."

"Have you ever wanted something to not be true?"

"I am a Vulcan," he replied.

"I'm not."

Tuvok nodded slowly.

They took a direct route to the Shuttle Bay, stopping only to give orders to any crew members they met. They found the Bay doors locked.

"Can you get them open?" Janeway said.

"I believe so, Captain."

The security officer pulled of the main access panel and worked through the circuits trying to find the still active life support line. He reconnected three wires and the doors opened enough for one person to slide through sideways.

"Captain, I believe I should go first." He pulled out his phaser and started through. He looked around and yelled, "Captain!"

A hand grabbed Tuvok's tunic and pulled. He flew some fifteen meters and hit the floor rolling. When he swung around with his weapon, he was struck by a phaser blast. Two more shots and the Vulcan stopped moving. Janeway turned and ran, and hit a security force field.

"Captain?" Keegan said.

She turned around, her weapon drawn, and felt the shot. Her arm went numb, and she dropped her phaser.

"I'll stun you if I have to. I'd rather not."

"Tuvok?"

"Is alive but unconscious. I have no intention of killing anyone."

"You understand," she said. "That's difficult to believe."

"I understand it better than you," he said. "Into the Shuttle Bay, please."

"I won't order the ship or its crew to help you in any way. Chakotay will assume command. Any orders I issue will be ignored."

"Captain," Keegan said. "I just want you to come into the Shuttle Bay and sit down."

"Why?"

"Don't you want answers to your questions?"

The doors to the Shuttle Bay were now wide open. She walked past him slowly, watching his phaser. She stepped through the doors and saw the Flyer in its usual spot. Tuvok had landed near it. His phaser was next to him.

"I see it too," Keegan said. "My eyesight is excellent. Step around it, walk to one of the chairs and have a seat."

She walked to the chairs and saw they had arm and leg locks.

"Sit down. You know what this is for."

She sat down. He was right behind her. He locked her in place as soon as she was in the chair. She was able to turn to see him pick up Tuvok, carry him to a chair and lock him in. She could hear Tuvok breathing quietly. Keegan walked in front of both of them. He wore an eyepiece for a virtual screen. He looked at it often.

"What are you going to do to us?" Janeway asked.

"Let you go, as soon as I've told my side of the story."

"Why don't you let us go now?"

"People in a position of power don't need to listen," he explained. "Right now, you're hanging on every word."

"And then what?"

"I go to the brig and hope the crew doesn't lynch me."

She leaned forward. "Is that what this last week was? Helping everyone so they wouldn't be afraid of you?"

"No, it was my last meal. That was the last time I would be welcomed by your crew."

"We gave you a home," she said.

"As soon as you found out what I was, you wanted to take it away."

"You lied," she said. "You falsified records. You manipulated the computer system."

"You knew all of that eleven days ago, and you were ready to promote me. I can do this as long as you can, Captain, but you won't get your answers."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

He held up a hypospray. "Mister Tuvok. I'm sure he'd want to be a part of this. Don't worry, it's just a stimulant." He put the hypo to Tuvok's neck and fired. The Vulcan winced and opened his eyes.

"Captain, are you all right?" Tuvok said.

"So far. He's awake, Mister Keegan. Would you like to explain yourself?"

"It would help if I knew what Mister Keegan was," the Vulcan said.

"Keeping all the best secrets for yourself, Captain?" the lieutenant said.

"I thought people might have trouble with it. How did you get here, Mister Keegan?" Kathryn said.

"The same way you did, Captain. The Caretaker."

"That doesn't explain it," she replied.

"Captain?" Tuvok asked.

"Records indicate Philip Keegan, a nineteen-year-old graduate student at MIT, disappeared in nineteen ninety-two. Whereabouts unknown," she said.

"The Caretaker sent out probes and collected samples," Keegan explained.

"And you were the sample from Earth?" Tuvok said.

"Me, and a hump-backed whale. I was curious about that one for a while."

"Why you?" Janeway said harshly.

"As a guess," Keegan said. "I'd say samples were selected based on their ability to survive the trip back."

Tuvok spoke without a reaction. "The healthiest human the probe could find in that time frame was a eugenic."

Phil nodded. "From the very last group. We were different."

"How so?" Tuvok said.

Keegan said, "The scientists recognized the need for emotional development. They looked at it as a portion of the equation they had not previously considered. My generation had morality. We even wanted to help humanity. We sometimes succeeded." He glanced at the captain.

"What happened to them?" Tuvok asked.

"The other eugenics killed them before taking power," he said. "At least, the records seem to indicate that."

"Is that why you didn't return to them when we visited your era?" the Vulcan said.

"No, I couldn't find them," Keegan said. "Believe me, I looked, but Earth was nothing like I remembered it. You're right, though. Khan would have killed me. I also felt a sense of responsibility. After all, I'm the reason you're here. I guess I made humanity look promising."

"You're an abomination," the captain said.

"Me, and half your crew, Captain. And every Vulcan, Mister Tuvok."

"Vulcans have never engaged in selective breeding," Tuvok said.

"No," Keegan replied. "They were a eugenic race deposited on Vulcan hundreds of thousands of years ago. I've read the records."

"And where is the race that deposited us?" Tuvok asked.

"I don't know," Keegan said. "But they were last seen in white globes about so big."

"That story is refuted," Tuvok said.

"Because of the ramifications, not the accuracy," Keegan countered. "I've examined the environment on Vulcan. It's extreme, but not enough to produce a race like yours. Even if it were, it wouldn't explain why Romulans have identical traits."

"I am not certain of the accuracy of your statements," the Vulcan replied.

"As you wish, Mister Tuvok."

"Half my crew?" Janeway said.

He looked up. "They're outside the door. Chakotay is a good First Officer."

"What will you do when they open the door?" Tuvok asked.

"Nothing," the lieutenant said. "They have to shoot through you to get to me. If they try, the Delta Flyer will fire at them. Phasers are set to stun. I wonder why Starships stopped doing that?"

"We'll warn them," Janeway said.

"I want you to. I don't want to hurt them."

"You didn't answer my question," the captain said.

"Sorry, I was distracted." He rubbed his eyes. "Seven years, I only regret one thing. I didn't tell you who I was at the beginning. You would have feared me, put me in the brig, realized there was little I could do and let me out. By now, I'd be as much a part of the crew as anyone."

"Why didn't you?" Kathryn asked.

"I read the history reports first. At the time, I didn't know how tolerant the Federation could be. When I learned my mistake, I didn't want to go through that period where the crew hated and feared me. I like it here." He checked his display again.

Tuvok watched him closely. "'Help humanity.' The Unclaimed Thesis is yours," Tuvok said.

Keegan laughed. "Your scientists had a lot of our papers. Most were claimed by others who never had the talent to write them. The more honorable scribbled 'Anonymous' where the name should be. I guess Cochrane never got around to that."

"It's yours?" Janeway said.

"Why hide the source?" Tuvok asked.

"Eugenics wrote them," Keegan replied. "They were tainted. Instead of the truth, you called us 'the Anonymous Einsteins'."

"What?" the captain said. "Which ones?"

"All of them. I could tell you the author of each paper, and the real author of each stolen paper. Mine are sixteen, eighty-seven and a hundred and fourteen."

"My god," she said. "I wrote a paper on eighty-seven."

"I know. I liked it. You found a lot of mistakes I never noticed."

"How much does the Federation owe the eugenics?" Tuvok asked.

The bay doors opened. Chakotay and five security officers rushed in.

"Stop!" Janeway said. "The Flyer is programmed to fire on you."

"That would put a hole in the ship," Chakotay said.

"Relax," Keegan said. "It's set to stun."

"Point your weapons at the ground," Janeway ordered. She heard the movement behind her. "You have two questions to you, Mister Keegan."

"Yes. About a third of the discoveries in the twenty-first century, Mister Tuvok. Captain, Starfleet Academy."

"What?" Janeway said.

"Captain, what is he?" Chakotay asked.

"Starfleet Academy, Captain," Keegan continued. "One of the finest eugenic breeding programs I've ever seen. Take the most intelligent, the most physically fit, the most emotionally stable and put them into dangerous situations which necessarily weed out the unfit. Those that are left, the officers that have proven themselves, develop relationships with other officers. The children they produce almost always return to Starfleet. The possibility of new blood prevents stagnation. A perfect cycle with none of the resulting arrogance."

"Captain—" Chakotay said.

"Yes, Commander," Keegan declared. "That is what I am."

"What do we do, Captain?" Chakotay asked.

The captain growled, "Mister Keegan, you made me a promise."

"Yes, Captain," he said. "Computer, protocol whitewash, authorization, Keegan, alpha zero one."

The locks on the chairs opened. The lights turned on, the ship's systems came back online. Keegan dropped his phaser and put his hands up.

"Put your hands down," the captain said. "Tuvok, you will take Mister Keegan to the brig. I don't think he'll struggle."

"Yes, Captain."

"Phil?" Kathryn said.

"Yes?"

"Your people did a lot of things," she told him.

"I grew up with them. I know what they were like. That's why I was afraid of your reaction. I can't say you disappointed me."

"Heat of the moment," she said.

"Shoot on sight?" he asked.

She tilted her head, and he nodded to her comm badge.

"Have you written anything since coming to Voyager?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Can I read it?"

"Every bit of it."

She nodded to Tuvok. As promised, Keegan didn't struggle.

* * *

"What are you going to tell Starfleet?" Chakotay asked. He had asked her several times the previous day.

The captain continued to read while occasionally picking up a piece of egg or sausage.

"Kathryn?"

"Have you read any of them?" she said.

"Some. I haven't gotten all the way through one yet."

"He compiled statistics about the eugenic development of the average Starfleet officer," the captain said.

"Starfleet didn't plan it that way. We're not like them."

"I know." She handed him the statistics. "But, that's not the question, is it?"


	6. The Trial Part 1

_Thanks to Joy Calderwood for editing._

* * *

 **STARDATE -344175.11: March 5, 1979**

Khan Noonian Singh watched the door close. He listened to the footsteps fade and the car start up. He heard it drive off. Next to him, Cordaro Rodriguez and Zi Lin stepped back, their steps quiet and their breath shallow. Little blond Joachim slid up the stairs and watched Khan. Philip Keegan lowered himself into the shadows of an alcove and hoped he was not noticed, hoped he had not been seen. Only Allyn McPherson remained unmoved, unsurprised and unafraid.

Khan screamed.

The dark Sikh turned and punched a metal support pole, bending it sharply. He grabbed Cordaro and spun him into Allyn, tossing both across the room. He took a marble statue and threw it into the far wall, cracking it into a hundred pieces. Zi rushed him, and he kicked the Chinaman into the closed door. He shattered a table and broke a chair into splinters. Allyn and Cordaro jumped at him. He shrugged Cordaro away and pushed Allyn to the ground. He took hold of Allyn's shirt and punched his face repeatedly.

"You fucker!" he screamed on every other punch. "You fucker! You fucker! You fucker!"

"Khan!" a genetic engineer yelled at his son. "What is—" he began, and stopped when Khan threw Allyn into him.

Batch three and four eugenics ran into the room. With Zi and Cordaro, they piled onto Khan and held him down. Another engineer appeared. He stabbed a powerful sedative into Khan's neck. They held his screaming body for twenty minutes while the sedative took effect.

Phil watched them carry Khan from the room, watched Zi and Cordaro pick up Allyn and the engineer, watched them leave the room and turn out the lights. He watched the empty room for two hours before he moved. He slid along a wall toward a window. He opened it, crawled out and crossed the compound to his building. He climbed the side of the building, opened his third floor window and pulled himself inside. He removed his clothes, washed off his sweat in the dark, put on his pajamas and went to bed. He did not sleep. Someone knocked on his door at first light. He rose and opened the door.

"What is it?" he said to his sister.

"What happened?" she whispered.

"Nothing," he said.

"Did you say goodbye to Grandfather?"

"No. I wasn't there."

"Grandfather said he would say goodbye to you."

"I wasn't there," Phil told her.

"But—"

"I wasn't there!" he yelled. His sister started to cry and ran from the room.

A batch five trained them at martial arts that day, not the usual batch three. She moved them along well enough. She smiled and laughed and showed them Grandfather's favorite moves. She said nothing to the suddenly quiet Irish boy.

The next day, Khan was back. Khan was determined the six-year-olds should learn. "Philip, that stance is off balance." "Philip, that punch is too soft." "Philip, your kick is slow." "Philip, your sister can break the board, why can't you?" "Philip, for god's sake, keep up." "Philip, may I speak with you?"

Phil walked to his cousin while his siblings left for their next class.

"Philip, Philip, Philip," Khan said. "You are so much better than this. I know that you are."

"Yes, sir," Phil said.

Khan hugged the child close. "Cousin, cousin, no. I'm not angry with you. I'm disappointed. You are much better than this. Much better. You know that."

"Yes, sir."

Khan tsked a bit. "Are you sad you could not say goodbye to Grandfather?" Khan shook his head. "I'm sure he'll come back every once in a while."

"Yes, sir. May I go now?"

Khan smiled. "He would never abandon his favorite grandchild."

"I'm not his favorite, sir."

"Of course," Khan said slowly, stressing the second word. "Of course. Now, run along."

Phil nodded and ran away as fast as he could. He reached the sculpture room and sat at his chair. Farrenc played from the speakers. Phil grabbed a piece of clay and crushed it around his hands.

"What did he say?" Phil's brother whispered to him.

"He said I could do better."

"I meant Grandfather. Everyone wants to know what he said to Khan."

"I wasn't there," Phil replied.

"Sure you were." The boy leaned close. "What did he say?"

"I wasn't there!" Phil said, standing.

"Philip?" the teacher said.

"I'm sorry, mother," he said to the genetic engineer. He sat down and pushed clay onto the bust in front of him. With his thumbs, he carefully formed the forehead of Khan Noonian Singh.

* * *

 **STARDATE 55217.57: First Day of the Trial**

Three admirals, a human, an Andorian and a Vulcan, all members of the Federation Council, sat and watched the accused. Across the room from them were two tables, prosecution and defense. Two people sat at the defense table, one sat at prosecution. Two women and a man, two commanders and a lieutenant respectively. Perpendicular to all three tables stood a full gallery. Admiral Kathryn Janeway sat in the front row of the gallery and waited. One of the admirals at the table struck a bell three times.

"This tribunal is called to order," he said. He read a list of charges: mutiny, insubordination, interfering with the development of a sentient lifeform, lying to a superior officer and entering Starfleet illegally. The list, seven years of deception, took some time to complete. "How do you plead?" the admiral asked when he finished.

"Not guilty," Lieutenant Keegan said. In the gallery, not a voice was heard, not a whisper, not a murmur, not a gasp. But Kathryn Janeway ground her anger into her teeth.

"Mister Keegan," the councilman continued. "I strongly recommend you reconsider. We are prepared to dismiss all charges but the last and discharge you honorably. I'm certain there are many places you could put your talents to work."

"But not Starfleet," Keegan said.

"No," the admiral said. "Of course not."

"My plea stands."

The admiral sighed. "Has your co-counsel explained what will happen to you if you are convicted?"

"I knew it before she told me."

"Yes, of course," the admiral said, nodding. "Mister Keegan, you are charged with—"

"Being born, Admiral."

"That will be enough, Mister Keegan," the Andorian admiral said.

"My apologies to the court, sir."

The first admiral, Harmendra Chauhan, continued. "Mister Keegan, your crimes are formidable but also understandable. We are willing to ignore them, if you will leave Starfleet."

"I thought Starfleet prided itself on its diversity and tolerance. If there is no room in Starfleet for someone who is perfect, where shall I go?"

Admiral Chauhan controlled himself. "Perhaps a university."

Keegan smiled. "Those who are not allowed, teach?"

"That will be the last of that, Mister Keegan," said the second admiral, Bretu Pek, an Andorian male.

"Again," he said, "my apologies, sir. But, I will not change my plea. I am a Starfleet officer. I intend to stay that way."

"Co-counsel," Admiral Chauhan said, "will your client be persuaded?"

Commander Anzhelika Ponomarev, counsel for the defense, shook her head. "No, sir. My client informs me he made this decision some years ago. I do not believe he will waver from it."

"Very well," Chauhan said. "We will hear opening arguments in two days. Mister Keegan, are you certain you wish to serve as your own counsel?"

"I have had seven years to prepare my defense, Admiral. I do not believe Commander Ponomarev, whatever her skill, could match my knowledge of the case or the regulations in question. However, I am satisfied with her work as co-counsel."

"Very well. This court will reconvene in two days at oh-nine-hundred."

* * *

 **STARDATE 54685.84: Six Months Before the Trial, Three Months Before Voyager's Return to the Alpha Quadrant**

"Sit still," Tom said.

"Why?" Phil replied. "It's not necessary for the scan."

"You make me nervous," Tom said.

"Oh." Phil looked at the two security officers stationed in the brig. "I heard you had a baby shower."

"Yes," Tom said.

"Sorry I couldn't be there."

Tom stepped back. "Damn it, Phil, why couldn't you be a normal alien?"

Keegan considered him a moment. "Look at those two," he said.

Tom turned towards the officers. In the corner of his eye, he could see Phil slowly stand. The two security officers raised their phaser rifles and aimed them at Lieutenant Keegan. The frequency of the rifles was always set to fire through the force field.

"We trained under Tuvok together," Phil said. "The day we passed our final tests, we replicated some real alcohol, went to the holodeck, got drunk, and promised we'd die for each other. They'll shoot me if I take a step toward you." He sat back down. It was some time before the rifles were lowered.

"You lied to everyone," Tom said.

"You gave me a reason to," Phil replied.

"Why do you need to win every conversation? What does that get you?"

"Nothing," Phil said. "It's something my grandfather taught me."

"Why do it at all?"

Phil shrugged. "Loneliness makes you do strange things."

Tom finished his scan. "I'll have to analyze this," he said. "I'm sure the captain will want to talk to you."

Tom walked to the shield. One officer aimed a rifle at Keegan. The other walked to the shield controls, deactivated it, pulled Tom out and reactivated the shield as quickly as possible.

"I hate that part," Tom said, walking out.

"So do I," Phil answered.

* * *

"Well?" Captain Janeway said.

Tom put down his PADD. "I scanned him three times. I analyzed the data of each scan five times. I compared the data to the scans of Khan from the Enterprise. He is, without question, a eugenic from the late twentieth century."

"Would the Doctor confirm your findings?" Janeway said.

"No. He says he doesn't trust himself where the lieutenant is concerned."

Kathryn Janeway simmered over the information. "Seven," she said. "Contact Starfleet. Let's get this over with."

Two hours later, Tuvok and four of his officers removed Lieutenant Keegan from the brig and walked him to Astrometrics. Crewmembers filled the intersections of the corridors they walked, watching silently as they passed. Phil's eyes never left Tuvok's back, until Lisa Hununga came into view. He stopped in front of her, and four rifles turned on him.

"Sorry," he said. "Tripped over something. Damn carpets are frayed."

"I will have maintenance look into it," Tuvok said. "If you are done tripping, we should continue. We are on a tight schedule."

Janeway, Chakotay, Tom and Seven of Nine waited in Astrometrics. Seven established the connection when Tuvok arrived, and Admiral Paris appeared on the screen.

"Why is this man still in uniform?" the admiral asked.

"Decency?" Phil said.

Janeway leaned close to him. "Stop it, Phil!" she whispered.

"I am in uniform, because I am a Starfleet officer," he said.

"Not anymore," the admiral replied. "You are dismissed."

"With all due respect, Admiral, you can't do that," Phil said.

"The regulation is clear," the admiral said.

"Admiral," Captain Janeway began. "I'd like you to consider—"

"Yes, Admiral, both regulations are clear," Phil said. "That regulation does not apply to me. You cannot summarily dismiss me because I am eugenic."

"Yes, I can. Eugenics are not allowed in Starfleet."

Phil spoke with a sneer in his voice. "But, Admiral, I am a victim of time travel."

"What?" the admiral said, looking first at Janeway, then Tuvok.

"The statute could be so interpreted," Tuvok said.

"No, it couldn't," Admiral Paris said.

"Statute?" Seven asked.

Phil turned to her. "'No individual taken through time by any method against their will can be held accountable for any Federation crime that was committed prior to the birth or after the passing of the life of the Federation if a corresponding law did not exist forbidding the act at the time and place the crime was committed.' Eugenics was not illegal when I was born, and I did not travel here of my own free will."

"It doesn't matter when you were born," the admiral said. "You are a eugenic. You cannot enter Starfleet."

"Admiral," Tuvok said. "The regulation you are referring to was designed to deter genetic engineers or parents from providing children with an unfair advantage when applying to the Academy and removing the possible emotional instability found in many eugenics. The genetic engineers that constructed Lieutenant Keegan, however, did so without the knowledge of any Starfleet regulation. It is possible that he cannot be held accountable for their actions."

"Are you out of your mind?" the admiral said.

"I am a Vulcan," Tuvok replied. "And I taught law at the Academy."

"It seems this is a matter of interpretation," Chakotay said.

Keegan nodded to Chakotay. "'Upon being accused of treason against the Federation, Starfleet personnel may demand a trial conducted by the Federation judiciary. If the individual is acquitted, Starfleet Command shall have no further legal recourse against the accused in said manner.' I would like my day in court, sir."

"Don't 'sir' me," the admiral said.

"We are losing the signal," Seven said.

"Shall we continue this tomorrow?" the captain asked.

"Mister Tuvok," Admiral Paris said. "Review those regulations. I want a more detailed recommendation from you."

"Yes, sir."

"Paris out."

"Phil," Chakotay said. "That was impressive if arrogant."

"I've had seven years to prepare, Commander, and law was always one of my better subjects. And, Mister Tuvok," Keegan said. "I thank you for being Vulcan."

"I am doing my duty, Lieutenant. If you will accompany me. I must return you to your cell."

After they left, Janeway turned to Tom. "You were quiet."

"I've never seen anyone do that to my father," he said. "I was enjoying the ride."

* * *

"Why are you here?" Phil asked the next day.

Tom shrugged. "I was supposed to provide my father with the medical records. I'm sure he planned to praise me for their accuracy then kick you out."

"Well," Phil said. "I'm glad you're here anyway."

"The connection is ready," Seven said.

Admiral Paris appeared on the screen. A commodore and a lieutenant commander stood next to him.

"Let's get this over with," Admiral Paris said.

The commodore stepped forward. "Admiral, we are here to listen to Mister Tuvok's recommendation and hear Mister Keegan's case."

"Very well. Mister Tuvok, what is your assessment of Mister Keegan's claim?"

Tuvok raised a PADD. "After review, I find Lieutenant Keegan's case has merit. I recommend a tribunal to decide the matter. I also offer myself as either prosecutor or defense attorney. Commander Chakotay is sufficiently knowledgeable to serve in either capacity as well. Captain Janeway would serve as mediator, and we would present our arguments daily to the tribunal."

"Well thought out," the commodore said. "The Federation council has reviewed yesterday's exchange and Mister Keegan's case. His unique interpretation of the statutes is worthy of consideration. However, we have elected to prosecute him on the charge of mutiny instead."

"My recommendation for the proceedings of the trial remain, sir, whatever the charge," Tuvok said.

"I am confident of that, Mister Tuvok," the commodore said. "But the trial proceedings may prove difficult. We ask, therefore, that Mister Keegan accept the decision of an Arbitrator instead."

"No," Keegan said.

"A trial presented in the manner Mister Tuvok has outlined could take months to complete," the commodore countered.

"I'm not going anywhere," Keegan said.

"You would rob your crewmates of their time with their families?"

"I'll use my three minutes a month for the trial. After all, I don't have family."

The commodore sighed. "We have chosen a Vulcan Arbitrator."

"Commendable," the lieutenant said. "But no. I want my trial."

"No," Admiral Paris said. "I will not have a eugenic in Starfleet."

"You mean another one?" Keegan said.

"Julian Bashir has proven himself," Admiral Paris said.

"So have I," Keegan replied. "But, that's not what I was talking about."

The admiral shook his head. "You mean that nonsense about the Academy? I don't believe it."

"I didn't think you would," Phil said. "But, that's not what I meant either. My people did not leave the world without progeny."

Everyone, even Tuvok and Seven, reacted.

"What?" Captain Janeway said.

"Admiral," the lieutenant continued. "I believe your wife had an Olympic athlete in her family, a four-time gold medalist in the triathlon. He lived in the mid twenty-first century."

"You bastard," Tom said softly.

"Scan yourself, Tom. Your scans don't lie."

"My mother's great-grandfather was an ensign on the Reliant," Tom said.

"I know," Phil replied. "I always thought that was a hell of a coincidence."

The lieutenant commander, an intellectual looking woman, finally spoke. "Did that bother you, Lieutenant?"

"Did what bother me?" Phil asked.

"The incident aboard the Reliant," she replied.

"It bothered me that I couldn't see it happen."

"Really?" she said. "Why?"

"Because I hated that fucker."

"Khan?" she said.

"Yes," he replied.

"Why? Wasn't he the best of you?"

"He was the best tactician," he told her.

"So," she said, slowly. "Why did you hate him?"

"Kirk knew him for a few days and hated him. I grew up with him. I hated him in ways none of you could ever imagine."

She thought for a moment. "What did you call yourself? A batch ten eugenic? We have never heard of the different batches. How do we know that story is true?"

Keegan chuckled. "And you were doing so well. Don't ask the obvious questions."

"We are losing the connection," Seven said.

"Starfleet will consider the new proposal," the commodore said.

"Do you have anything else to say?" Admiral Paris asked.

"Yes," Phil replied. "If it's any consolation, you're clean."

After a moment of smoldering, the admiral said, "Starfleet out." The screen went blank.

Janeway walked up to Keegan. "What the hell is wrong with you? Do you feel the need to alienate every person around you?"

"If I were accommodating, Captain, I would be dismissed by now. They may hate me, but they will give me my trial."

"Yes," Tom said. "And call into question every human in Starfleet."

"Score one for the pilot," Phil said.

"Is it true?" Janeway said.

"Yes," Phil answered. "Maybe eight percent of the population is so tainted."

"Were any of the children yours?" she asked.

"No. I never had children."

"My piloting skills?" Tom said.

"Natural talent," Phil replied. "The genes are so dilute; I doubt they affect you at all."

"Look at that," he said. "I have family on board. Maybe I should name my daughter after you."

Keegan smiled. "If you name your daughter Phyllis, B'Elanna will throttle you."

Tom shook his head. "Well, I'm glad I could be here to help you."


	7. The Trial Part 2

**STARDATE 48316.8: The Day of Voyager's Arrival in the Delta Quadrant**

Philip Keegan smeared gel from his eyes and opened them. Bright white attacked him. He winced, rolled onto his side and shoved himself onto one elbow. He lay naked on a metal floor in a large room with white walls. Behind him stood a glass cylinder, open and dripping the gel. Other cylinders lined the walls sized from one small enough for a cat to one that held a humped back whale. All the cylinders were occupied with the preserved remains of various species. Except the whale, he recognized none of them.

Phil pushed himself to his knees and staggered down again. The dizziness passed, and his strength began to return. He stood and fell. He stood again and fell against the wall. When the nausea stopped, he pushed himself off the wall and stood and waited and breathed until standing did not bother him. He walked along the wall until he reached a door. He found it locked. And the next. And along the long wall, door after door, until the third from the last opened. He found a shower that didn't use water in the room beyond, which he used, and a robe, which he put on. He saw a door on the other side of the room and walked to it. When he reached it, a man's voice spoke to him.

"I'm sorry," the voice said. "I didn't want to hurt them. I'm glad I could let you live."

The door opened to a curved corridor. Windows, widely set along one wall, showed him black space and stars and nothing else. He touched a window as if trying to touch the clean darkness of space itself. He turned down the corridor. After some minutes of walking, he saw a flash through the windows. He looked out and saw a vessel, grey and battered and shaped like an airplane. It flew past, followed by a much larger vessel. If the windows were any clue, the second vessel was the size of a battleship, and it moved with the speed and maneuverability of the best fighters he'd seen. In those windows, he thought he saw humans. The writing on the side of the ship read "U.S.S. Voyager". It had a long nose section and was shaped like an inverted spoon attached to a distorted cylinder. Two box shaped things hung off the cylinder on pylons. Philip Keegan thought it was the ugliest design for whatever it was he could imagine. A yellow-orange particle beam fired from Voyager's nose and struck the smaller craft. A force field around the smaller craft blocked the beam, and it flew out of sight. Voyager followed.

Phil started to run along the corridor, stopped himself when more nausea hit, then walked at a fast pace until he reached a new door. The door opened to a room with more doors. The doors opened to rooms or corridors with more doors and rooms and so on until he heard voices. He opened that door and found many beings, mostly human, in a large room. All wore long white robes.

"Did you find anything?" someone called out to him.

"No," Phil said.

Something else, masculine but not human, asked him a question. "Did you think that was going to get you anywhere?" it said angrily.

"No," Phil replied. "But it gave me something to do."

"I'll never understand humans," it said.

The one who called out to him, a man who sounded familiar with command, spoke again. "What you understand doesn't matter." He turned to Phil. "You're sure you didn't find anything useful? A comm, a transporter, some equipment we could use? Do you know where we are?"

"A space station. I found a corridor with windows." Phil considered for a moment. "I saw Voyager fly past."

"That's something, at least."

"I'm not going back with the Federation," the non-human said.

"Fine. Stay here," the man said. "The rest of us want to go home."

They started moving. Phil's story seemed to inspire them to action. He stayed in the back, listening to them, watching them. He could understand the non-humans, though he could tell they weren't speaking any language he knew. They were two factions, both of mixed species, one called Federation, one called Maquis, and they hated each other. Each group believed he was part of the other side, but they were too busy and resentful to compare notes. He could guess he had been in suspended animation. Centuries may have passed. He looked close at the humans, but they did not show any eugenic traits. Most displayed some physical training, but none of them could move the way he did. After an hour of wandering, a group of men and women in yellow and black uniforms found them. They carried rifles.

One of the women in uniform tapped a badge on her chest. "Voyager, Munro here," she said. "We've found another group."

"We have you," the badge said back. "Ready to beam you out."

The people around Phil began to separate themselves into groups of six. They stood in circles an arm's length from the next in the group. Some of the Maquis faction protested, but their leaders shouted them to silence. Phil stepped into a random group, filling up a sixth spot. He watched as blue light and electricity swallowed one group, consuming them completely and fading to nothing. Then another group. Then two at a time. Then Phil felt static along his skin, heard a high pitched humming and smelled ozone. The world around him disappeared into liquid electricity. When it faded, he stood on a raised platform in a much darker room. The group he had traveled with rushed off the platform and he followed. More people in uniform guided him to a large room. It looked like storage and was set up like an Evac unit. A man aimed a calculator at him, tapped it a couple of times, then tapped a panel above a small recess in the wall. Blue light filled the recess and became clothing. The man handed him the clothing and led him to a curtain to change. Phil put on a gold jumpsuit, a black shirt and black boots. They all fit perfectly, better than anything he'd ever worn.

"What's your name?" something not human said to him when he stepped out. It had a face like a wild boar.

"Philip Keegan," he said.

"Phil, my name's Retut. Do you have any special skills?"

"No," he said.

"Good, then you're in maintenance. Come with me." Retut led him out of the room and down the hall. He walked into another room filled with debris that some people were working on. "Here," Retut said. "Help clean this up. Are you good with tools?"

"No," Phil said. "But I learn quickly."

"I'll get you some textbooks later." He walked out.

Phil walked among people with blank eyes, bruised skin and torn uniforms. He followed their lead, never lifting more than the other humans. They worked for hours, in silence, the time broken by two meals and eventual success.

When they finished, one of the women leaned against a wall and said, "The Delta Quadrant. I don't believe it."

"That's the military for you," Phil said.

"What?" she replied.

"You know," he said and found only confusion. "It was just a joke."

She sighed. "I know it was a joke. It was inappropriate. Random negative commentary won't help the situation. If you have a problem with command, tell them not us."

"Sorry," he said. "I guess I was raised differently."

They sat against the walls without speaking until Retut returned.

"Good job," he said. "Go back to your rooms and get cleaned up. Get some sleep. We'll start on Cargo Room Two tomorrow," He turned to one of the workers. "How'd he do?" he said, pointing at Phil.

"He didn't give us any trouble," the worker said.

"Good." He looked at Phil. "Come with me. I've found you a room. The crew is below complement, so you get it all to yourself. It's a little out of shape, so you'll have to fix it up."

"Hey, what's another couple of hours work?" he said.

"Good attitude. You'll do well here."

Retut took him through damaged corridors and down two levels, stopping at a door.

"Here you go," he said. "The replicators on this deck are off-line, so try not to get hungry. See you tomorrow."

The damage in the room surpassed expectations. Phil decided to leave it until later. It wasn't much worse than a college dorm in any case. It had a bed made from two cots, a couple of chairs, a bathroom, a shower, a recess in the wall he took to be the replicator and something like a desk with a screen above it. He sat down in front of the screen and looked around it.

"How does this work?" he said.

"Please restate question," the panel answered.

Oh, of course. "Show me... show me any historical information you have on... Khan Noonian Singh."

The screen displayed text: Khan Noonian Singh, considered foremost among the eugenics. Undisputed ruler of one fourth of the planet Earth at the height of his power. He escaped justice at the end of the Eugenics War by placing himself and eighty-three other eugenics in cryo-stasis aboard a DY-100 series planetary transport. He was eventually—

"Stop," Phil said. "Display a full historical record of the Eugenics War."

As he read, he could hear Khan's voice and the voices of the other eugenics giving their orders. He read the background of the war, then an overview of the conflict, then the text displayed the details of the war. He stopped on one paragraph. He reread it four times. He fell against the desk reading it. He finally closed his eyes to it, crushing them shut, trying to force the words from his eidetic memory.

"You bastard," he whispered.

"Please restate request."

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" he screamed and punched his fist through the panel.

* * *

 **STARDATE 55222.97: Second Day of the Trial**

"Thank you, Lieutenant Keegan," Commander Ponomarev said.

"The prosecution may challenge the account," Admiral Chauhan said.

"The prosecution is satisfied with Mister Keegan's description of how he arrived on Voyager. We have depositions from the crewmembers mentioned that support his statements."

"So noted," the admiral said. "We will hear opening arguments."

Philip Keegan stood and walked to the center of the room. "Three hundred years ago, I stood at the threshold of one of the darkest times in human history. A war, caused by my own people, devastated the planet. That devastation struck the world with a despair that lasted until Zephram Cochrane led mankind into space some seventy years later. The legacy of my superior race is sorrow and pain. I can understand, more than anyone in this room, why we are hated and feared. I cannot throw myself before the mercy of this court. I cannot beg your forgiveness, but I can offer my remorse. I can offer my penance. I committed no crime at the level of Khan, but I am all that is left to bear his guilt. I could be imprisoned or abandoned on a planet, and that may satisfy some, but I have chosen redemption. I will not be a victim of my own perfection. I will surrender my life and my destiny to the people of the Federation and to Starfleet. I ask to serve where Khan would demand to lead. My crimes, all of them, were committed to give me the chance to undo some of Khan's transgressions. I offer my guilt for a greater good, and I offer my service to Starfleet."

When Keegan sat down, the prosecutor stood. Commander Simone Brown was a tall, attractive woman of about forty. She smiled before she spoke.

"Redemption and remorse are wonderful goals, but those goals are what prison is for. No, Philip Keegan did not commit the acts attributed to Khan Noonian Singh. No, he was not a part of the Eugenics War. No, he did not harm the people of the Enterprise or the Reliant or Regula One. And he is not charged with those offenses. He is charged with lying to his superior officers on multiple occasions for personal gain. He is charged with mutiny in taking control of the starship Voyager, a crime if his time in control of Voyager were two years or only two hours. He is charged with insubordination and he is charged with violating a developing sentient, the ship's doctor, for his own purposes. And, he committed these acts out of arrogance. He knew if he were exposed, he would be removed from his position. He decided to supersede the regulations of Starfleet, an organization he promises to serve, and he placed his own ideals above the clear dictates of the founders of Federation law. The Federation and Starfleet were built upon the ideal that the greater good is the few suffering for the many. No one who places himself above that ideal should be a Starfleet officer."

Commander Brown returned to her seat.

"Thank you," the Vulcan admiral said. "We will have a short recess while we consider your statements, then the defense may call its first witness."

Keegan stood. "With all due respect, Admiral, my witness list is incomplete. Four of my key witnesses have yet to return to Earth or make sub-space contact."

"Which witnesses are those?" Admiral T'Lara asked.

"Commander Data, Commander Julian Bashir, Captain Montgomery Scott and Ambassador Spock. In particular, records show Doctor Bashir was sent on a mission to the Gamma Quadrant the day after I filed my formal request for a hearing. He has not yet returned."

Admiral Chauhan scowled at the prosecutor. "I will see to it personally that Doctor Bashir returns. You understand, however, that recalling Ambassador Spock will be much more difficult. I hope he is not vital to your case."

"I hope that as well," Keegan said.

"Do you have other witnesses prepared?" Admiral Chauhan asked.

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Then we will hear from them. This court is in recess for fifteen minutes."

In the holding cell, Commander Ponomarev watched her client read from a PADD. He read whole pages at a time, tapping the advance button like a metronome. She leaned against a wall well away from him.

"I take it that wasn't it," she said.

He stopped but did not look up. "No," he replied.

"Why not use it? Tell them and be done with it. You said it would exonerate you."

"No," he said. "I never said that. It might convince them to keep me around."

"Why waste the time for the trial? Why give the prosecution that chance?"

He looked at her. "I thought you would know that."

"I know what you told Simone," she said. "But there's always more with you."

"Did I ever tell you about my grandfather?"

"You mentioned him a few times."

"He was the most amazing man I ever knew." Phil sighed. "He taught me a difficult lesson once. I want to prove I can learn from it." He sighed again, more painfully this time. "I want to know I can do this without his help."

"That doesn't make any sense," Anzhelika said.

"I know. I'm sorry." He smiled at her. He seemed so human when he did that.

A guard opened the door. "We are ready for you," he said.

"The game's afoot," Anzhelika said. Her client smiled at her again and followed her out the door.

* * *

 **STARDATE 54691.55: Six Months Before the Trial**

"Hello, Mister Eugenic," Neelix said, holding out a plate of food.

"Don't call me that," Keegan replied.

"I call Mister Tuvok 'Mister Vulcan'," he said.

Keegan looked at the guards. "There's a difference. You need to ask someone about it."

Neelix put the plate down on Keegan's cot. "I'll do that," he said.

"That's enough, Neelix," one of the guards said.

"Yes, Ma'am. Lieutenant, I'll see you at lunch."

Phil finished the meal thinking Neelix should stop trying to cheer him up by experimenting with the food. He set the plate down, expecting a long day of waiting, when Captain Janeway walked in.

"Stand outside," she told the guards. "You're getting what you want," she said when they were gone.

He didn't react.

She continued, "Starfleet will not conduct a trial with the prosecutor, the defense and the accused sixty thousand lightyears from the court. You will be granted a temporary reprieve. Upon our return to the Alpha Quadrant, the charges will be re-filed. Until then, you will retain your current rank of lieutenant, junior grade."

"Thank you, Captain."

"Do you really think you fooled anyone?" she asked.

"I didn't need to fool them, so long as I got that result."

"So you get to wear that uniform for how long? Fifty years if things go poorly. You could retire with honor."

He shrugged. "I won't retire in fifty years."

"And why is that?"

"I have a three-hundred-year lifespan."

"What?" she said. "Why?"

"Something my grandfather wanted. The genetic engineers implemented life extension in the eighth batch. One hundred and fifty years for them, and two hundred for the ninth."

She shook her head. "Why didn't they build an eleventh batch?"

"They planned on it. They were going to wait ten years from the end of my batch to see how the first group did."

"What happened?" she asked.

His eyes drifted off. "Something bad," he said.

"Well," she said. "I'm afraid you'll have to stay in the brig a little longer. The crew is not happy with you, or some of the information you provided."

Twenty-eight papers credited to a respected scientist of the late twenty-first century were proven to be identical in style to the Unclaimed Thesis and the three "Anonymous Einsteins" Keegan took for his own. Two of the Einstein papers were published before the scientist was born.

"I read his autobiography when I was at the Academy," she told him. "I remember thinking his writing style was so different in his papers. I thought it was a part of genius, the mind shifting from one mode to another like a split personality." She sighed. "How many others are you going to reveal?"

"All of them. My people deserve recognition for their benefits to mankind as much as for their crimes against them. I would provide this information whatever the outcome of the trial. It is not a threat to secure a beneficial verdict."

She examined the ground for inspiration. "Protocol whitewash; it did its job, I'll say that. We can't find any of your commands left in the computer. Why did you install those commands anyway? When did you think it would be necessary for a good Starfleet officer to gain complete control of the ship?"

"A few years ago," he said. "After a bad experience with a girlfriend."

"Are you joking?"

"No, oddly enough. I knew I would be discovered at some point. I had to show you I wasn't Khan. I think it worked. You didn't shoot me, after all."

"You didn't give me the chance."

He laughed. "I guess we did things differently in my day than in yours. A show of power is not as well received now."

"No," she said. "But we still understand violence. Thirty people have asked the Doctor to scan their DNA to make sure they are free of contamination. Many others fear to see you expose a beloved ancestor. They want you to shut up, and they are being very vocal about it."

"'The Federation has a responsibility to the truth.' I am done with lying and silence," he said.

"'Confession is good for the soul?'" she asked.

"Yes," he said, smiling. "I need as much good in my soul as I can get. The people of the Federation and the families of those thieves will adapt. My people will be as hated as they are now, but they will be hated with a greater accuracy."

Kathryn Janeway leaned against the door frame of the cell and flicked the defensive shield. Her finger numbed from the contact. "Could you get us home?" she asked.

"They're demanding that too, aren't they? No," he said. "It's much easier hiding in the Alpha Quadrant. If I could get us home, I would have done so by now."

"The fact that this helps you—"

"Means nothing," he replied. "I avail myself of my environment, much as you do."

"Speaking of which, I am going to double your guard: two to watch you and two to protect you. I am afraid you will be in this cell until the crew forgives you."

"You could tell them I'm a better cook than Neelix."

She laughed. "For god's sake, Phil, I'm a better cook than Neelix." She went to the door and ordered the guards to return to their post. Walking away, she thought, Finally got the last word in.

Some hours later, Neelix returned with lunch. He held the tray out with shaking hands and wouldn't put it down until Keegan walked to the opposite side of the cell.

"No desert, Neelix?" Phil asked.

Neelix jumped back. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'll... I'll... I mean—"

"I was kidding, Neelix. I'm on a diet, remember?"

"Yes, Mist— Lieutenant. Enjoy the meal." He walked out quickly.

"Ahh," Keegan said to the guards. "Deep fried something. My favorite."

* * *

 **STARDATE 48404.9: One Month after Voyager's Arrival in the Delta Quadrant**

"No, Phil, stay," Crewman Denise Reed said. "It was just getting interesting."

"We're replacing eight damaged struts tomorrow," Crewman Keegan replied. "I want to be ready for it."

Denise looked to the other people at the table for help. Three faces returned sympathy to her. "You probably had it memorized a week ago. Do you know how hard it is to find someone who's actually read Renaissance poetry that wasn't a Shakespearean sonnet? At least talk to me about Mary Wroth. Just for a minute? Please?"

"I'm very sorry, Denise, but I have a lot of reading to do. You don't want me to drop a strut on your head do you?" He shrugged innocently and walked out.

"I'd like to drop a strut on his damn head." She turned to the others. "I was being obvious, wasn't I?"

"I've never seen you more obvious," one of them said.

"Thank you. What is wrong with him?"

"I think he's insane," another one, Ensign Suder, said.

"And thank-you."

"No, I think he's genuinely insane. You'll excuse me, please." The Betazoid stood and followed Keegan. He ran to catch up and called out when he saw Phil.

"Ensign Suder, how may I help you?"

"Crewman, you have a very strange way of thinking," Suder began.

"Is this about Denise?"

"No. You have an almost Vulcan mind. You think about a tremendous amount of material simultaneously. It's very detailed, very complicated. It's a mind I envy. But, there have been flashes I've noticed a few times. Do you believe you're a eugenic?"

"What?"

Suder stepped back. "Wow. I've never found a mental shield that strong in a human before. Where did you learn how to do that?"

"I had an unusual upbringing," Phil said carefully.

"If you keep something like that up too long, you'll give yourself a headache," Suder said.

Phil nodded. "Yes, I'll keep that in mind."

"About the eugenics..."

Phil answered slowly. "I thought, if I were a eugenic, I could get us home. I guess my fantasy got a little strong."

"Yes," Suder said. "I thought it was something like that. Everyone is having trouble dealing with the situation. I know I've had my problems, but we don't need one of those psychotics to get us home. We'll get there on our own. The holodeck can run a good psych program for you. Just talk it out."

"Thank you, sir. I will do that. Excuse me please."

Phil's long legs carried him to his room at almost a run. Too excited to sit, he called out to the computer while pacing between the screen and the bathroom door.

"Computer, I need any available background material on Ensign Lon Suder." He stopped long enough to read. "What the hell is a Betazoid?" He read again. "Are you shitting me? Those nutcases were right? Holy fuck." He continued to pace. "Computer, are there any plans for telepathic shields in the database?"

"Nineteen such devices are on record."

"Display them." Swallowing a page at a time, he considered and discarded most of the designs. Finally, he tapped the screen, highlighting one device in particular. "I need complete instructions on how to implant this shield," he said.

"Warning, all telepathic shield designs are currently experimental. Use of a telepathic shield is not recommended by Starfleet."

"Duly noted. Display the requested information."

Six hours later, three versions of Philip Keegan sat in holodeck two perpendicular to each other as if at the corners of a square. As the living Keegan in the center moved, the holographic Keegans in front of him and to his right mimicked his actions. He lifted a laser scalpel and cut the skin above the ear of the hologram in front of him and felt the warmth and pressure of the cut above his own ear. He peeled back a flap of skin, an odd sensation if there was one, and inserted a universal translator. He planned to implant a translator soon anyway. He attached the device to his skull, fusing it in place with a skeletal regenerator. A thin wire slid out of the translator and dug through his soft tissue until it contacted his auditory nerve. It eased into place, and he heard a crackle. His tricorder indicated the translator was functional. He inserted a small tube into an opening in the translator. Nanobots crawled through the tube and out a series of holes at the base of the device. When a nanobot encountered his skull, it shoved its legs into the bone and locked itself into place. A new nanobot would crawl over the old, lock itself into place, and connect itself, nose to tail, with the first bot. Millions of nanobots, in twenty different streams, moved out over his skull, split into new streams, and continued. Soon, a fine web of nanobots covered his skull. He removed the tube and replaced it with an optional power upgrade. It would provide energy to the added circuitry in the translator. When the power source slid into place, Phil felt first a disorientation, then nausea, then mild pain, a headache, more nausea, and finally a fuzziness he knew would never go away. He would adapt to it. He picked up a tissue regenerator and sealed the seam in his scalp.

"Computer," he said. "End program. Delete it from memory." He picked up his supplies and walk out.


	8. The Trial Part 3

**STARDATE 48538.35: Three Months after Voyager's Arrival in the Delta Quadrant**

"Why, Phil?" Denise said.

"I think I can do a better job in security."

She was pouting. "I like working with you, Phil. I don't want to see you go."

"It's not like I'm transferring to another ship," he said softly, keeping it light.

"How did Retut react?"

"He offered me deck nine."

"Oh," she said. "I don't want you to be my supervisor." She leaned close. "I like to be on top."

"I'm not surprised. You'll excuse me. I need to report to Tuvok." He heard her curse as he walked away.

The interview with Tuvok took more than an hour. The Vulcan asked him questions about his background, his combat experience and his training.

"Why are your records incomplete?" Tuvok asked.

"I was a late addition. My records were never transferred."

"Yes, I have found that problem with some other crewmembers. I am not pleased to take an individual into security on such limited information, but I am understaffed in a hostile environment. You understand, you will be watched more closely because of this?"

"Yes, sir."

"You said you have studied martial arts. Who taught you?"

"My parents. They were tournament martial artists."

"Which tournaments?"

Phil listed some. He had prepared an elaborate background, more material than he thought he'd need. He was almost out of information. The trick, he found, was describing his training without providing a source or location. He tried to keep the outright lies to a minimum. And, so far, Tuvok had not asked him if he were Federation or Maquis. Keegan knew from other crewmembers that Tuvok did not know all the Maquis. Chakotay kept many of his people isolated from each other, a protection against infiltrators. The Maquis had arrived in the Delta Quadrant in two ships. Tuvok was not familiar with most of the Maquis from the second ship.

"Did they place well?"

"No. They never made it past the second or third round. They were excellent teachers, though."

"How did you enter into your unusual occupation?" the Vulcan asked, presumably meaning the Maquis.

"Through an absurd series of accidents and coincidence. I was happily a university student until fate grabbed me."

Tuvok watched him silently. He never used a PADD during the interview and never read from his terminal. "Do you fear I will judge you for what you have done?" he said.

"No, I am more than enough judge for what I have done. I don't need any help."

"How do you judge yourself here?"

Phil looked around the room as if watching the whole ship. "Voyager is a chance for redemption."

"I understand," Tuvok said. "One more thing. I can normally detect a human at this distance. Are you using a telepathic shield?" the Vulcan asked.

"Yes, sir," Phil said without hesitation.

"Why?"

"There are parts of my life I would like to forget. I don't want anyone accidentally reminding me of them."

"That does not seem to be sufficient justification, considering the time and effort of the implantation and the mental training required to make it effective."

Phil sighed. "The implantation took very little time, and my parents provided me with mental discipline as part of their training. Adapting that training to the telepathic shield was not difficult."

Tuvok nodded to Phil. "Very well," he said. "If this personal training of yours does not interfere with your duties, I will not pursue the issue. Perhaps I will find some tactical use for it." He finally picked up a PADD and read from it. "I am in the second week of training a new team. Do you believe you can catch up to them?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Tomorrow, you will wear your workout uniform and go to holodeck three at oh-five-hundred."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

* * *

 **STARDATE 55223.05: Second Day of the Trial**

"How would you rate my performance, Commander Tuvok?" Keegan said. He stood in the middle of the room, facing the witness chair.

"My evaluations of you ranged from above average to excellent," Tuvok replied.

"Did I ever give you a reason to doubt my loyalty?"

"No."

"Did the presence of my telepathic shield cause you any concern?"

Tuvok considered the question. "I remained curious about your decision to use the shield, but I did not feel it merited investigation."

"How long did you consider me for field promotion?"

"Three months," Tuvok answered.

"Did you ever doubt your decision?"

"Vulcans do not doubt. We review all factors logically."

Keegan smiled. "What did your logic tell you?"

"Your leadership skills were undeveloped, but your intellect and adaptability compensated. You exhibited superior physical and mental training, and you showed a strength of will often praised by other humans."

"Where did this lead you?"

"That you would make an acceptable officer, by human standards."

Keegan turned to a display screen. "Computer, show defense exhibit four." Text appeared on the screen. "Commander Tuvok, would you identify that text for us?"

"Those are the results of the Academy tests I administered prior to recommending you for field promotion."

"Would you identify the highlighted area?" Keegan asked.

"Those are the results of the psychological exam," Tuvok said.

"Describe them, please."

"The test indicated an unusual, possibly traumatic childhood. You showed a measure of arrogance and instability resulting from that upbringing and from your own perceived superiority. On occasion, you manifested a paranoid delusion."

"What delusion was that?"

"That the entire crew of Voyager was out to get you."

Keegan smiled again. "Then why did you suggest me for promotion?"

"Many members of the crew developed emotional difficulties during this time period," Tuvok said. "I found that you were able to deal with these difficulties more effectively than most of the other humans. I also found that you responded well to a challenge. I believed the increased responsibility would ultimately help you with these emotional problems."

Keegan said, "In your opinion, do you believe you were correct? Has my rank and responsibility improved my emotional stability?"

"For a human, yes."

Keegan turned toward the admirals, and then the prosecutor, his face stoic. "Computer, screen off," he said. "Mister Tuvok, are you stronger than me?"

"No," the Vulcan said. "Your mass affords you a benefit."

Keegan began to pace slowly. "Are you faster than me?"

"Yes."

"And what about endurance?"

"Comparable," Tuvok said.

"Are you smarter than me?"

"Overall intellect, no, but I have superior tactical knowledge."

"Yes," Keegan said. "You do. Could you take me in a fight?"

"Yes," Tuvok replied.

"But I defeated you in the shuttle bay."

"You had superior tactical information and the element of surprise."

"Did losing to me bother you?"

"That is an emotion," Tuvok said.

"Do you fear me? Or, whatever Vulcans call it."

"No."

"Do you believe I pose a threat to the Federation?" Keegan asked.

"That would depend on the type of threat," Tuvok said.

"What would you have done," Keegan continued, "if I had told you what I was at that first interview?"

"Informed the captain and reprimanded you for placing false information in the computer."

"Thank you, Mister Tuvok," Keegan said. "No further questions."

"Mister Tuvok," Commander Brown said. "Philip Keegan fooled you for seven years. How was that accomplished?"

"Voyager was in a constant state of alertness," Tuvok replied. "We were under attack from many alien species. I needed to trust the crew around me and to rely on them in order to insure Voyager's survival. I did not have the luxury to consider an inside threat, and we had no evidence that the Caretaker had acquired anyone other than Voyager and the Maquis."

The commander tapped her fingers. "And, did you change your policy when Seska was exposed?"

"Yes," Tuvok said. "I reviewed the records of all Maquis personnel."

"And how did Mister Keegan's limited background appear to you?"

Tuvok said, "He was not listed as Maquis. I considered it an error. In the end, I decided his incomplete records indicated he was not an infiltrator. Such an agent, like myself, would have a plausible history. However, I decided to review his record aboard Voyager and extend his probationary period."

"Did you tell him this?" Brown asked.

"Yes. He accepted my decision. He served with distinction during the probation, risking his own life three times in the course of his duties. At the end of the allotted period, I removed him from probation."

"None of this caused you any concern?"

Tuvok's expression drifted from annoyance to slightly more annoyance. "All of this caused me concern, Commander. However, I needed more than irritation or suspicion to pursue Mister Keegan's inconsistencies. My duty was to protect Voyager and her crew. As a security officer, Mister Keegan defended the ship with the same dedication I expected from any other Starfleet officer.

"I knew he possessed an imperfect past, as did many crewmembers aboard Voyager. Captain Janeway specifically ordered me to ignore those crimes. She knew we could not create a unified crew if we began to prosecute one third of the people on board. I believed Mister Keegan was a part of that group, that he had committed a crime in the Alpha Quadrant that the Federation deemed unforgivable, but, when the subject was discussed, he claimed he sought redemption. I chose to judge him on his actions in the Delta Quadrant and not on his assumed former indiscretions.

"The Maquis were renegades and terrorists, but they did their jobs with passion and skill. They also responded well to loyalty and respect. I chose this path with Mister Keegan and found my decision rewarded. I knew he hid a crime, but, by my own logic and my captain's orders, I ignored it. In return, Voyager gained a capable officer. I considered the results satisfactory."

"Would you serve with him again?" she asked, her voice calm.

"I must reevaluate Mister Keegan as an officer," he said, looking at Phil. "However, I have not ruled out the possibility."

"And when you reevaluated him for the computer core, what then? Did his lack of a history disturb you?"

"No, Commander, it did not," Tuvok said. "By then, I believed I knew Mister Keegan. As I said, I believed he had proven himself to me."

"And now, do you regret your decision?"

Tuvok looked again at Phil. "No. During his time as Head of the Computer Core, he served Voyager well."

Commander Brown sat back in her chair and crossed her fingers. "Thank you, Mister Tuvok. I have no further questions."

"Mister Keegan, you may call your next witness," Admiral T'Lara said.

* * *

 **STARDATE -335263.66: April 6, 1988**

From an eighth story window, Phil watched as the governor cut a red ribbon at the entrance to the plant. The crowd around the governor cheered. The sound was a distant, happy squeal to Phil.

"Imagine if they knew, Philip," a soft voice said.

"I was."

"Ah," Khan said. "I see my favorite scientist looks fondly on them. I am pleased. I think it will help to understand them."

"And control them."

"Yes, Philip. We must remember that. We are given the opportunity to help where no other could. We can guide with passion and intellect and wisdom. Has any leader in history offered so much? We will give them a thousand Solomons. Today they have free energy. Tomorrow, their freedom will grow. We have that responsibility."

"My responsibility today is to the reactor," Phil said.

"And tomorrow, to the DY-fifty. How does that go?" Khan sat down and motioned Keegan to a chair.

"Rodriguez didn't tell you? We can't compress the fusion reactor enough to fit the frame. We're going to scrap the fifty design and upgrade to the heavier seventy."

"And if it used a fission reactor?" Khan asked.

"It could shuttle you earth to moon," Phil said. "We can also use it to test the launch vehicle."

"Excellent. How long before we can take mankind to Mars?"

"The seventy will be ready by ninety-one. The ion drive will get you to Mars in about a month."

"And by then," he said with a smile, "you will be just beginning your doctorate. Does that satisfy you?"

"I did not feel the need to earn a doctorate before I was fifteen."

Khan placed a hand on Keegan's shoulder and sighed. "Philip, will I ever regain your love?"

"I'm sure, if you really needed it, you could get it from me."

Khan laughed, but his eyes surveyed Keegan. "Philip, you have always had the best sense of humor among us. I hope you never lose it. Come with me," he said, standing. "Let me introduce you to the governor. Let him know a fifteen-year-old boy helped design the first fusion reactor. It will help prepare them for us."

"No," Phil replied. "I like my anonymity. Let me keep it until I graduate."

"Agreed," Khan said, embracing the word. "Let us rescue humanity from within the shadows today. But tell me what you want. Let me give you a gift."

"Send me to Mars," Keegan said without pause. "Let me be among the first to walk there."

"And will you love me if I do?"

"I just might."

* * *

 **STARDATE 48576.14: Two Weeks into Training**

"Crewman Keegan?" Tuvok said. "Do I have your attention?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry. This is the first time I've been off Voyager since the Caretaker Array." In time, he would be as familiar with it as those around him, but, right now, he enjoyed walking on his first new planet.

"Yes," Tuvok said. "All of us have been in need of shore leave. You will be allowed to join the rest of Voyager's crew when our training is done. Follow me."

Today was the first day Tuvok himself had trained the team. When the others in Keegan's group talked about it, they smiled wickedly as if they felt they would return to the ship beaten and bruised and twice as skilled as they were now. Phil nodded and repeated what they were saying. He spent most of his week learning security protocols and weapon systems. He had little time to learn much about the Chief of Security.

"Are you Federation or Maquis?" In Maintenance, people had asked him that every other week. His response was, "Neither. I'm a member of Voyager's crew. I like to remember that." And that worked. "Good attitude," they would respond. Many even took up the mantra. Until one day, someone said, "No, seriously, Federation or Maquis? It's not like it matters." And he replied, "I'll tell you later," and put in for a transfer. But, security had not been a random choice.

Tuvok walked them to an area of huge boulders. He took them to a relatively flat rise where several boulders met. He ordered the group into a half circle.

"Mister Keegan," he said. "You tell me you've had some training. Show me."

"Watch out," a team member whispered. "He's Vulcan." He said it as if Phil knew what that meant.

He had read the background of them. They were strong. They lived two hundred years. They embraced logic the way humans embraced passion. They were respected. But, if he asked a question, he only got one answer, "He's Vulcan." Is he tough? Is he hard on you? Is he good at his job? How does he treat you? What's he like? "He's Vulcan."

"Mister Keegan," he said. "Attack me."

Phil dropped to a stance and punched out. Tuvok caught his arm and twisted him to the ground.

"Well done, Mister Keegan," Tuvok said. "If you would—"

Keegan curled up on the ground and kicked backward, catching Tuvok in the chest and knocking him back. The Vulcan rolled with the impact and came up in a guard. Keegan kicked out, a feint, and struck with his fist. Tuvok blocked his arm and hit Keegan in the back, knocking him to one knee. Phil fell smoothly into a sweep. Tuvok rolled over it and they stood as one.

"I am pleased, Mister Keegan," Tuvok said. Half the group gasped.

Phil smiled, in a way he hadn't in years, back when he could enjoy something. Tuvok appeared to acknowledge the smile as an incidental quirk in his opponent. Phil scoured Tuvok's face for a reaction; pain, joy, fear, hate, surprise, excitement, disdain, boredom, anything really. Does he like his job? He's Vulcan. I get that now. Phil attacked.

The new attack differed from the old. Phil was no longer surprised. He knew Tuvok surpassed his speed. He had no reason to hold back with that. He limited his strength. He knew Tuvok could match it well enough, but the Vulcan would notice the difference. As for skill, Tuvok appeared to have had some training.

Tuvok punched twice, both feints, and swung at Keegan with his elbow. Phil dodged and punched in one move. Someone in the group whistled. Tuvok took the blow and struck. More punches followed, half feint, half real, shifting as opportunity required. Phil blocked and struck as he could, but he had no chance. He was losing, with or without his strength. And he was smiling. With each bruise, his smile deepened. When Tuvok kicked him in the chest and knocked him into one of the other trainees, Phil laughed, though it sounded like a cry of pain.

"Are either of you injured?" Tuvok said.

"No, sir," both replied.

"Good. You have seen Crewman Keegan make use of the terrain. Learn from this. Make your environment your ally. That must be stressed. Crewman Simms, step forward."

* * *

 **STARDATE -335264: April 6, 1988**

"Khan said you wanted to talk to me?" Keegan said to Zi Lin. Lin walked to a table, stepping away from a naked man strapped to a chair. Fine cuts and precise bruises covered the man's skin.

"I've gotten what information he has. Now I need him to take back a message."

Keegan examined the man and the tears creeping down his face. "Industrial or oil company?" he asked.

"Oil. Were you as amused by the lobbyists as I?"

"I found their expressions memorable." Eugenics held two-thirds of the congressional seats. Established companies found their attempts to stop the fusion reactor surprisingly unsuccessful.

"I need a device from you," Lin said. "A plastic with the density of human flesh. Make the trigger look like a pacemaker. I need it by tomorrow morning."

"What parts will you remove?" Phil said, examining the man's chest and stomach.

"I have a list there." Lin pointed to a sheet on the table.

"What radius are we talking about?"

"A refinery," Lin said. "It needs to be rubble."

"That can be done," Keegan said. "But he needs to stand in the right spot."

"I'll keep that in mind." Lin picked up a knife. "Was there something you wanted to ask?"

Phil finally turned away from the man in the chair. "Have you finalized a design for the launch vehicle?"

"No, McPherson is still reviewing them. Why?"

"I guess I'm anxious to get into space."

Lin chuckled. "Don't worry, Philip. We'll get there. If you'll excuse me, I have more work to do."


	9. The Trial Part 4

**STARDATE 48762.89: Six Months After Voyager's Arrival in the Delta Quadrant**

The Kazon warrior swung his weapon toward the noise. Crewman Keegan caught his arm from behind and knocked the weapon from the warrior's hand. The Kazon turned and struck Keegan across the jaw. Phil smiled, trying not to laugh. A human jaw might have been broken. Keegan punched the Kazon in the chest with the heel of his hand, knocking the warrior into a bulkhead. The warrior drew a knife and attacked. Phil snapped the wrist that held the knife and shoved the warrior into the bulkhead by the neck. In the Kazon's eyes he saw fear? No. Anger? No. Exhilaration? No. Disappointment. He knew Phil was toying with him. He wasn't happy. Phil was defending his ship. He should do his duty. Keegan took the Kazon by the head and twisted. Another warrior heard the snap and ran to it. He charged Phil. Keegan took hold of him and shoved the warrior down hard, breaking the Kazon's back over his knee. A third warrior screamed a charge, and Phil put a knife in his neck. He picked up his rifle and stood over what he had done.

"Phil?" a woman said behind him. "What happened here?"

"It must have been one of the Vulcans."

"Glad they're on our side," Munro said. "They need us a deck down."

"Right," Phil said. "Right, let's go."

* * *

"A transfer, Crewman? Why would you request that?"

"I killed during the last attack. I didn't find it to my liking. I would like to transfer to science or engineering, sir."

Tuvok crossed his fingers. "You cannot transfer until your probationary period has ended. Neither science nor engineering will take you unless you have a degree. Do you?"

"No, sir. I was unable to complete my degrees. However, I have pursued my education."

"If you want an academic degree, I can test you for those. You understand, though, they would be the equivalent of a university degree not a Starfleet degree. It would not count towards your credits should you apply to the Academy."

"I am currently not in a situation where I could apply to the Academy, sir."

Tuvok's eyes drifted around his desk. "That is a very interesting point, Mister Keegan. Do you wish me to provide Academy tests as well?"

"No, sir, that's not what I meant. I didn't mean to be that much trouble. The academic tests are more than enough."

"I am aware of what you meant, Crewman," Tuvok said. "We do not have the opportunity to allow members of the crew access to the Academy; however, many of you may be Starfleet potential. I do not wish to see your abilities wasted, Mister Keegan. If you can prove yourself in your academic tests, I will recommend you for a field commission. It would require additional tests, but I am an authorized Starfleet instructor. The Academy would accept any results. The captain must approve all of this, of course. Are you interested in making the attempt?"

Keegan stared at the top of the desk. "A Starfleet officer?"

"Yes, Mister Keegan, does that interest you?"

"What? Uh...yes. Yes, Mister Tuvok, it interests me a great deal."

"Very good. How close were you to your degree?"

He took a breath. "A semester away from degrees in physics and mathematics."

"At what level?"

"Doctorate, sir."

"Very good. Two doctorates are the minimum requirement for graduation from the Academy."

"Really? Oh."

"Is something wrong, Crewman?" Tuvok asked.

"No, sir. Nothing at all. Can I complete the academic requirements while I am under my probation?"

"Yes, only the Starfleet tests require the probation to be ended. When would you like to begin?"

"As soon as possible, sir. I've spent my free time continuing my education. I feel ready for the tests now."

Tuvok tapped his terminal. "I will set up a schedule. We will begin the tests in two weeks. If there is nothing else, you are dismissed."

"Yes, sir. And, thank you, sir."

* * *

 **STARDATE -335280.39: April 12, 1988**

"Well done, Philip," Khan said. He smiled at the news report. "Zi was very impressed with your design."

"I'm certain he was."

Khan tsked. "Philip, that man was here to sabotage the reactor. It might have gone critical. Imagine what would have happened. You may have saved many, many lives. Aren't you pleased?"

"Pleasure is not a burden I will bear. Or remorse, if you were wondering." He turned off the screen.

"Philip, it is a war. And war means death. They began the conflict. We responded to it."

"No different than Oppenheimer, Khan? And no happier."

"That was hardly Hiroshima," Khan laughed. "We offer them order, and they will have it."

Keegan sat in a chair and stared at the inside of his mind. "We never knew the pains of birth. Are we inflicting those pains on others?"

Khan sighed and watched out the window at the looming reactor. "The tiger would not weep if you were burning."

"And who would?"

* * *

 **STARDATE 49438.18: Fourteen Months After Voyager's Arrival in the Delta Quadrant**

"It's a dangerous business, Phil," Munro said.

"Tuvok said much the same."

She reached across the table and took his hand. "We need you in security."

"That too."

"I want to sleep with you. Did he say that?"

"No," Phil said. "That was absent."

She squeezed his hand. "Scientists have designed weapons that worked and defenses that failed. Starfleet is dangerous. You can't hide from that."

"I don't need to look at it quite that closely."

"You hardly knew him. What's this really about?"

"It reminded me of something that hurts a lot." Phil took his hand away. "Did anyone ever tell you that?"

"Yes," she said, standing. "Right before they transfer. And, what about my offer, Phil?"

"You're a bit callous, aren't you?"

"The hell I am," Munro said. "You knew how I felt months ago. You can't run from life in the face of death."

"I think no good will come of the bed-hopping among the crew. It's a bad way to deal with the stress."

"That's a lousy lie, Phil, even for you."

"I had a bad experience a few years ago," he said. "I hurt a woman badly."

"I don't believe it."

"Am I hurting you now?" he asked.

"Oh, shut up. Fine. Best of luck, Phil."

* * *

"Physics and mathematics, huh?" Lieutenant Nirrip said. "We can use that. First, I'll need you to review all our current experiments. Run simulations on them and compare them to our results. Got all that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Get through them as quickly as you can and write a report on each. Let me introduce you to everyone in the department, and they will tell you which test they want checked." The Bolian Chief Science Officer smiled and led Keegan to a woman examining a cloud chamber. "This is Lieutenant Leslie Willis. She's our resident multitasker. Ask her anything."

"Ensign, have a seat," Willis said. "Off the top of your head, what can you tell me about this experiment?"

In the next three weeks, Keegan reviewed fifteen experiments and corrected two. He was praised for his attention to detail. In the next month, he analyzed twenty ongoing experiments. He corrected or improved eight. In the next two months, he assisted in the design of seventeen experiments. He suggested more efficient techniques for nine. He corrected four theories and dismissed one, with kindness. In the following month, they provided him with theories or experiments and gave him free reign to design simulations. The original theorists then rechecked his results. In the next month, they stopped rechecking his results. They began asking his advice. They asked him to review their theories in the planning stage. All the while, he sat in his corner, programming his simulations, never suggesting an idea of his own, never adding his name to any paper. And never, ever showing them his own writing.

One day, Nirrip walked up to him and said, "Phil, how are you with biology?"

People in earshot laughed.

"I can hold my own," Phil said. More people laughed.

"The captain has given us a new microbe to analyze. I want you to do the work."

"Are you sure I'm ready, sir?" Still more laughter. None of them noticed him sweat.

"Long overdue," Nirrip said. "Show me your best, wunderkind."

His second day working on the microbe, as he thought of new ways of dragging the experiment out, the Kazon took control of Voyager. Nirrip died during the fight. Ensign Suder died when they retook the ship. The most unfortunate good luck Phil might have imagined. He could tell Leslie Willis that Nirrip helped him with the work. With a careful manipulation, he could write the paper in Nirrip's style. It delayed the inevitable. He needed to do something genuinely wrong soon. After the cleanup of the ship, he walked into the main science lab with his story ready. The entire department met him and smiled at him.

"Leslie?" Phil said.

"I have some good news, Phil." The petite blond woman motioned him over.

"Good news? Nirrip is dead." Shock? Fear? Anger? What emotion should he affect?

"Bolians don't mourn. It would be disrespectful. He would want something right to come of this."

Right? What the hell did she mean by right?

"Chakotay spoke with me."

Oh, shit. Shit, merde, hovno, bok. "Leslie, could I speak with you?"

"Anything you want," she said.

"In private, Leslie."

"Certainly, Phil." She shrugged at the others, and she and Keegan walked to another room.

"Phil—"

"I want a transfer."

"What? Are you out of your mind?"

"Yes," he said.

"Oh. It was a joke." She shook her head.

"No, it wasn't. I can't handle this job anymore."

After several seconds, she said, "Chakotay needs a new head of the department."

"Congratulations."

"No, Phil—"

"I want a transfer to Engineering," he said. "They need the help."

"Yes, and so do we."

"You were doing fine without me. You're perfect to head the department."

She watched him, mouth open. "Phil, we just took a vote—"

"Congratulations, again."

"Why the hell are you doing this?"

He took a short breath and let it out slowly. "I can't stand the sight of death."

"I understand you liked Nirrip, but we have an obligation. We have a duty to the ship. I don't give a damn if you're afraid of death. When you put on that uniform, you took that oath."

"You are required to submit my request to Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Torres," he said. "If they refuse—"

"If?" she screamed, swinging her arm toward Engineering. "Do you know how many people Torres—?" She groaned at the words. "Fine. I'll submit your damn request. Are you happy?"

"As happy as I can be."

* * *

Philip Keegan sat in the mess hall holding a PADD and staring in the direction of the upper right corner of his table.

"Phil?" Tadao Nureek said carefully. "Everything Okay?"

Phil looked up and motioned the ensign to a chair. "You can find the strangest things in the Historical Archives if you know where to look," he said.

Tadao sipped his tea in response.

"I decided to look for an ancestor of mine, a very interesting fellow."

"Something inspired this?" Tadao asked.

"No," Phil said. "Something decided it. I didn't grow up with access to full historical records. I thought about my ancestor a lot. I just decided to look for him."

Tadao sipped his tea again. "So, what's wrong?"

"No matter how much I think I know about him, he finds a way to surprise me." He leaned against his fist. "He was a scientist, a rogue."

"That doesn't surprise me," Tadao laughed.

"He made some discoveries I didn't know about."

"Do they bother you?" Tadao asked.

Phil shook his head. "No. But no one else knows about them."

"What?"

"If you don't know him the way my family does, you couldn't understand what he created," Phil replied.

"You can bring this knowledge to the world," Tadao said. "Wouldn't your ancestor be proud?"

"Proud?" Phil said incredulously. "That wasn't in him. I don't know what he'd think."

"I don't understand what's bothering you. It's not like anyone in the Federation would misuse the information," Tadao said. "Is it anything that could get us home?"

"No. It's all in the Alpha Quadrant. I only found references to it here." Phil studied his PADD. "It's strange, is all. It amazes me what some people will do with the right motivation." He put the PADD down. "I feel a little closer to him, like I understand him more. I see some of him in me. I never thought I would."

Tadao set down his mug. "Phil, and I say this as a friend, you need to learn the meaning of the phrase 'straight answer'."

"I will take it under consideration," he replied dryly.

"How are you enjoying Engineering?"

Phil sighed. "Did Leslie send you?"

"No, it was just my turn."

"Everything is fine. Thank you."

"And Lieutenant Torres?"

Phil shrugged. "No major encounters. I haven't even had a decent conference with her."

"When will that be?"

"Tomorrow, when we review the new dilithium stabilizers."

Tadao groaned. "Thanks, I'll stick to biology."

Phil smiled, but it didn't last. "I'm looking forward to it. I haven't seen a reactor like that in quite a while. I can't wait to see how they've improved."

* * *

"How would you deal with the excess muons?" B'Elanna asked.

"What?" Phil said.

"That method would produce excess muons. If you can't remove them, they'll destabilize the reaction. The mix ratio will be off."

Phil laughed like a quick stutter. "You're right."

"Yes, Ensign, I know."

Phil laughed again. "You're right. And I was wrong."

"Yes, I know. That's why I'm the Chief Engineer."

Phil studied nothing with a wild expression. "Yes, it is. That's exactly why you're the Chief Engineer." He laughed again. "You're a better engineer than I am."

"I'm glad you feel that way. If you're done laughing, could you reroute the plasma conduits in Jefferies tube five?"

"Anything you say, Lieutenant. I am here to serve."

Off duty, back in his room, he picked up a painting and looked at it. "I'm a lousy painter," he said and threw it against the wall. He laughed and picked up a violin. "I'm a mediocre musician." He threw it against the wall. "I'm a poor philosopher. I'm a rotten cook. I can't sing to save my life!" Books and pans struck the wall. Furniture, a potted plant, a sculpture all hit the wall. He turned the desk over and pulled out the dresser. He finally sat in a chair and tossed pieces of a model starship at the wall. "I'm not the best engineer aboard this ship. I'm _not_ the best engineer aboard the ship!" He leaned his head back and laughed.

The door buzzed.

"Come on in!" he said.

Leslie Willis entered. "Phil?" she said. "Are you Okay?"

"Hell yes! I'm not the best engineer on this ship."

"I know."

"Why didn't you ever tell me that?" he said, looking up.

"I don't know." She looked around the room. "Is everything all right?"

He laughed again. "This is the best day of my life."

"I'd hate to see your worst."

"That, Leslie, was a very long time ago. You've nothing to fear." He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "Why are you here? I'm not going back to the science department. That's for damn sure."

"I heard about what happened," she said. "I came to see if you wanted to talk about it. I guess you don't."

"Leslie, my sweet," he said, lifting his head. "I am grateful for the offer. You are a true friend."

Moments passed as she studied the giddy man. "Do you dance?" she asked at last.

"Yes! I'm no damn good. Why?"

"Jessica found a new club on the holodeck. We could go. I think I can get Lisa Hununga to join us. Are you interested?"

He turned to her with his head at an angle. "Are you trying to set me up with Lisa again?"

"Yes."

"So, this isn't because Jessica likes to dance and you can't?"

"Sometimes I hate that mind of yours," she said.

"I get a lot of that." He walked to her and took her by the shoulders. "Leslie, the way I feel right now, I will go anywhere and do anything."

"Really? Lisa will be ecstatic."

Hours later, as the tango reached its climax, Phil dropped Lisa Hununga into a low dip. Lisa arched her back and moaned. Jessica Rohr watched closely and licked her lips.

"Hey!" Leslie said. "Eyes on the target."

"Just admiring the technique. Why don't you ever do that?"

"Because you're taller than I am."

"Oh, right."

Lisa staggered to the table, grabbed her glass and swallowed the contents. "No more," she said. "I need to rest."

"Jess?" Phil asked.

Jessica raised her hands. "I need some time, besides, I've had the most dances."

"Then, Leslie, it falls to you," Phil said, taking her hand.

"Fall is right."

"Don't worry, I'll hold on."

"Not too tight," Lisa and Jessica said together.

Leslie leaned over and kissed Jessica. "No worries, my love." Phil pulled her onto the floor as a waltz began.

"How did she get him to do this?" Lisa asked, not trying to hide the way she watched Phil.

"After the incident in Engineering, Leslie went to see how he was."

"And to see if the laws of physics had changed?"

Jessica laughed. "She said he had demolished his quarters and was sitting in a chair laughing." She recounted the rest of the conversation.

"He said that? All this time, and all I had to do was find a mistake. Tell Leslie I owe her a big favor."

"Enough," Leslie said, sitting down. "Enough embarrassment."

"You weren't that bad."

"Yes, I was."

"Will you feel better if I agree?"

"Yes," she said, massaging a foot.

"Then, who's next?"

Lisa stood up and took hold of Phil.

"The man's inexhaustible," Leslie said.

"God, I hope so," Lisa replied.

"Good lord, Lisa," Jessica said. "Why don't you rape him in front of us?"

Lisa swung around with a wry smirk and shoved the glasses off the table. "You up for it?" she said to him.

He pushed himself against her. "You tell me."

"That," Jessica said, "is our cue to leave."

"No," Phil said. "It's ours." He took Lisa by the waist and tossed her over one shoulder. "Lisa has been very naughty and needs a spanking." He carried the giggling woman off the holodeck and down the hall.

"I know someone else who needs a spanking," Leslie said.

"Bare hand or paddle?"

"Surprise me."

Two hours later, Phil, dressed in only a pair of pants, carried Lisa into Sickbay. She wore only a robe.

"Ow, Phil, ow, Phil, OW, Phil," she said as he lowered her to a bed.

"Doctor!" Phil called out.

"State the nature of the medical emergency," the Doctor said, phasing into view. "What happened here?"

"I got a little excited," Phil said.

Lisa shook her head. "We both did. I'm as much to blame."

The Doctor scanned her. "A cracked hip, a broken wrist and a dislocated shoulder. How excited were you, Ensign?" He injected Lisa with a hypo. "That will ease the pain and help you sleep. Open your robe." She looked at both of them and pealed the robe open. The Doctor picked up a belt with a strap attached. He put the belt on her waist and placed the strap around the leg below her broken hip. "You will be off duty for a week while that heals." He put a device on her wrist. "Please scream," he said and popped her shoulder into place. She screamed. "In the future, I suggest you use some restraint."

"It was the damn restraint that pulled my arm out," she replied. She closed her robe and climbed off the bed. She winced when her weight reached her hip.

"Let me help you," Phil said.

"I'll be fine," she said. She limped to the door and leaned against the wall. She gasped a few times before she said, "Help me."

He picked her up, gingerly, and carried her to her quarters. There, he laid her on the bed and grabbed his clothes from the floor. "Where are my damn socks?" he said.

"Phil—"

"Stop. I just need my socks," he said. "There they are."

"Phil," Lisa said.

"No. No, I can't do it."

"Phil! Stop. Please. It was hard enough getting you here." She leaned on her good arm and watched him.

"Do you need anything from the replicator?" He pulled his shirt on.

"No. I can reach the replicator. Will you stop doing that?"

"Stop what?! Hurting you?"

Her voice was hard and steady, but her eyes glistened. "I'm willing to survive a few bruises for good relationship."

"I'm not willing to cause them," he said. He walked out, carrying his clothes.


	10. The Trial Part 5

**STARDATE 55228.88: Fourth Day of the Trial**

"I was twenty-one," Keegan said. "By three years, the youngest in the department. You were how old?"

"Twenty-seven," Leslie Willis said. "And the oldest next to Nirrip."

"You had seniority, experience, training. Why that vote?"

"You had been the de facto head of the department for months," Leslie said. "Nirrip's plan to ease you into the team failed the first day. You were ahead of us before you began. We never got to a vote, not really."

"Did that bother you?" he asked.

"I love science too much for an ego. My first Chief Science Officer was only two years older than me. I remembered her as a student from the Academy. She made my head spin. Our field is saturated with child geniuses. Einstein published Relativity at twenty-six. I was glad for the chance to work with you. Nirrip loved you. He gave you all his grunt work and got twice as much of his own work done." She gestured at him with fervor.

"A child genius. That was what you thought of me?"

"Yes," she said. "I remember... I remember a task the captain gave us. I wrote a paper in the Academy on the use of plasma scarring to determine the stages of manufacture of different alloys. The captain told us to analyze a relic drifting near a white dwarf. I got the job and sent it to you for review. You corrected my theory and my original paper. You fixed my damn doctoral thesis! I could have kissed you."

Phil tried to hold in a smile. "Lieutenant Commander Willis, are you afraid of me?"

"Hell no!"

"Do you find the work I did suspect?"

"No, not at all."

"Why not?"

She puzzled over her answer. "In the late twentieth century, doctors wondered if they should use medical information gleaned from the Nazi Holocaust. Volumes of documentation existed on hypothermia and dehydration, and all that work done with twins. No one questioned the value of the material, only the source. Would using that information betray the victims or justify their suffering? The information was not to blame. A fact is a fact." She paused, clearly organizing her words. "I based my view of your work on the man I saw. I still do. I don't credit the genetic engineers with your ideas or the other eugenics. In all the time I knew you, I never saw you do anything that would harm another. I don't hesitate to praise you for the papers those scientists stole."

"Harm another? Like the crew of the Equinox?"

"Yes. You tried desperately to be the voice of morality for the department. You seemed obsessed with it."

"Objection," Commander Brown said. "The witness cannot know the mind of the defendant."

"Mister Keegan?" Admiral Pek said.

"I won't contest it," he said. "Lieutenant Commander Willis, what did you think of my efforts at morality?"

"I was amused by them. I thought you were trying to please everyone."

"To curry favor?"

"Yes. Before I knew you, I dismissed it as the enthusiasm of youth."

"And later?"

"Just a quirk."

"How so?" he asked.

"You told us things we already knew or already did. I guess I found it endearing."

Keegan said, "If you had found out what I was that first month in the Delta Quadrant, what would you have done?"

She sighed and answered quietly. "I would have demanded you be put off the ship at the first opportunity."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Commander, I have no further questions."

Commander Brown leaned back in her chair and waited for Keegan to take his seat. "Lieutenant Commander," she began. "What is your current assignment?"

"Chief Science Officer of the Madagascar."

Commander Brown read from a PADD. "I see you served well in that capacity aboard Voyager."

"The captain never complained."

"Were you happy to receive that position?"

Leslie looked down at the floor. "Yes."

"But, you believe Mister Keegan would have done a better job."

"Yes, I do."

Commander Brown walked to the middle of the room, reading from the PADD. "Who are the Vendite?"

"They are a race we encountered. They asked us to repair their ecosystem. Their sun had entered a state of instability. Solar flare activity had increased tenfold. It threatened the biosphere."

"Were you able to help them?" Commander Brown said.

"Yes."

"How?" the commander asked.

"I saw Phil at lunch one day. He made a suggestion."

"How much time passed between the assignment and Mister Keegan's suggestion?"

"Two days," Leslie said.

"Did anyone die during that time?"

"Yes," Leslie said in a soft voice.

"If he had lead the department, could he have prevented those deaths?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"There are other examples," Commander Brown said, holding up the PADD.

"I know," Leslie replied.

"In your opinion, were his actions wrong for a Starfleet officer?"

"Yes," Leslie said.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Commander."

"Redirect, your honor?" Phil said, standing. Chauhan nodded. "Lieutenant Commander, would you serve with me again?"

Leslie waited and waited, hoping for a good answer. "I would go to hell and back to read one of your papers, but I don't know how I would feel if I had to serve with you again."

"Thank you. No further questions."

* * *

 **STARDATE 50312.5: In Orbit Above Earth, 1996**

He sat cross-legged in front of the window and watched India pass below him. He held a PADD that displayed his recent scan. Nine hundred and eighty-one eugenic signatures. Eighty-one signatures were below the age of five. In orbit, just past the horizon, two DY-50 series shuttles sat docked to the new space station. On the continent below, three DY-70 transports waited on launch platforms. Two DY-80 and DY-90 transports sat in hangers. On an island to the south, a favorite retreat for the Prime Minister, a single DY-100 stood in a bunker.

In two months, the war would begin. Captain Janeway told the crew to ignore it. They could not interfere with this history. Keegan smiled lightly.

"Burn in hell, you bastard," he said.

* * *

 **STARDATE 50472.37: Two and a Half Years in The Delta Quadrant**

"Taida was upset," B'Elanna said.

"I noticed," Phil said. "I am prepared to open the primary computer panel."

"You are authorized to do so." She examined a control terminal closely. "Why was she upset?"

"You know why. I am removing the primary and secondary relay junctures."

"Proceed," B'Elanna said. "I think you make a nice couple."

"Thank you. I am now accessing the main library interface."

"Wait." She input a command code. "Proceed."

"I am now rerouting all secondary functions to the Auxiliary Core."

"You have authorization to proceed." She watched the data flow. "It was just dinner."

"No it wasn't. I am now inputting the modified interface protocols."

"Stop. Disconnect the tertiary relay juncture." She continued to watch the data until he completed the task. "You have authorization to input the new protocols. So what if it wasn't just dinner?"

"Stop it B'Elanna." He sat back while the programs loaded.

"What's wrong with that?"

"I put a woman in Sickbay."

She leaned around the terminal. "Some women like that."

"Taida isn't one of them. Neither is Lisa."

"There are techniques. My mother told them to me."

"Your mother?" he said.

"She wanted me to marry a Klingon male. She thought I should be ready."

"Is that a Klingon thing?" Phil asked.

"No, that's a 'my mother' thing. How did you do that, anyway?"

"I'm stronger than I look."

She examined the breadth of his shoulders. "Oh. Does this happen to you often?"

"Hurting women? I hope not."

"No. Women throwing themselves at you."

He sighed. "It seems like it. The fact is, few people in my family have been called unattractive." She nodded at that. "But," he continued, "I think it's cabin fever more than anything else. We need some kind of outlet. Once in a while, a woman will think I'd make a good outlet. They move on eventually."

"Why do you let them?"

He leaned back at her. "I don't want to hurt them physically or emotionally."

"That's a pile of manure, Phil," she said, her eyes on the control panel.

"The hell it is. How many women do I have to put in Sickbay to convince you of that?"

She looked back at him, considering a response. "Fine, it's your personal life, but some of the women on board are healthier than you think."

"Any suggestions?"

She watched him and returned to the panel. "Not just now. I think some women would risk a night in Sickbay."

"I don't like hurting anyone," he said. "No matter how much I might enjoy the experience."

"Ah-ha! Lisa said you were having fun."

"Up until the screaming began."

She tapped the controls. "My mother said that's the best part."

"Your mother is Klingon. Bruises are a sign of affection."

"They can be a lot more than that."

"What?" he said.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. You have authorization to return secondary functions to the Primary Core."

He input the commands. "I had a bad experience. Is that so hard to understand?"

"You're running, Phil. Leslie said the same thing."

"Please leave Leslie out of this."

"You'd make a good department head," B'Elanna said.

"Fine. I'd make a good department head. Find me a department."

She stopped completely. "Do you mean that?"

"Yes. Give me something really obscure, deep in the bowels of the ship."

"How far do you need to run, Phil?"

He lifted his eyes. "Relay junctures?"

"You're authorized to replace the secondary and tertiary relay junctures. Answer my question."

"I'm not running, per se."

Her eyes said bullshit.

"Fine. I'm running. Are you happy?"

"No. I like you where you are."

"You've never done anything bad?"

She considered her answer. "You told me once you were seeking redemption. You won't find it down here."

"I need to go down somewhere else for you?" he said softly.

"What?" she said.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"You are authorized to replace the primary relay juncture, and nothing else."

"Yes, sir."

"Are you at least going to the party?"

"No," he said. He watched her expression. "No." Her expression didn't change. "Yes," he said. "Are you happy?"

"Yes."

"We're not going to dance."

"The hell we're not."

"You're lucky you have a nice ass," he whispered.

"Damn straight," she whispered back.

It began with a game of darts. Someone suggested four teams; two Federation, two Maquis. Bets were taken. Everyone had fun. A joke was made. Another joke followed. A comment followed the joke. A harsher comment followed that. Two and a half years in the Delta Quadrant, and the crew was tense. For two and a half years, they refused to say what they thought. They refused to think what they felt. They refused to do what they wanted to do. Better it be done without phasers.

Phil claimed he had work to do. It allowed him to delay his arrival. He hoped most people would be drunk or exhausted. He could walk in, say hello, beat someone at pool, laugh and leave. Two minutes later, and security would have stopped him.

B'Elanna, screaming, "Damn Federation!" shoved an ensign against a wall and punched another in the stomach. Someone took hold of her from behind. She butted her head back and turned, fist forward, at any target.

Phil walked in the door. He registered the chaos and heard the crack of a nose breaking. He turned and, by pure instinct, lifted his hand. With a loud smack, he caught B'Elanna's fist. A dozen combatants nearby stopped fighting when they saw it.

B'Elanna stared at her fist, hovering in space as if detached from her body. She wondered, for just a moment, at the strength of the hand that held hers.

"God damn it, B'Elanna!" Phil said, throwing her hand down. "Why the hell do you have to be so Klingon all the time?" Security found him on his way out and ordered him back to his quarters. Now in an ensign's quarters, he had more room to move and more furniture to throw. He took hold of a table and tossed it backhanded across the room.

His door chimed.

"What is it?!"

It chimed again.

"Come in."

Lieutenant Munro stood in the doorway. "Why didn't you tell us you weren't involved?"

"I was going back to my quarters, anyway. I had no desire to make trouble."

"You sure as hell calmed down Lieutenant Torres," she said. She walked to the table. "Prefer your anarchy alone?"

"Are you off duty?"

"Computer, what is the time?"

"The current time is twenty-one, oh four."

"Yes, I am," she said.

"Do want to go to Sickbay?"

"Sickbay?" she asked.

"The same way Lisa Hununga did. I need to vent my frustration on something other than furniture."

She sat on the bed and leaned back. "I'm a little healthier than Lieutenant Hununga, and I know some techniques. Why are you like that, anyway?"

"You can have sex or questions. Not both."

She stood up and walked to him. "It's a tough choice, but I think those questions are worth knowing. Besides, I don't think you're at your best right now. You could try the 'Vulcan Love Slave'."

"I'll keep it in mind." He took hold of her and kissed her. "Do you like me?"

She laughed and pulled away. "Yes, that's why I'm here."

"Thanks, that means a lot."

She pondered him. "Oh yes, those answers are worth the wait. Do you need anything else?"

"Time on the holodeck alone."

"Do you want me to suggest a few other holonovels?"

"No," he said. "I'll find my own."

* * *

"The Computer Core? Are you serious?" B'Elanna said.

"As serious as I can be."

"Nobody _goes_ to the Computer Core."

He shrugged. "You need someone there. I can do a lot with the Core."

She turned away from him. "Did you realign the coils?"

"Yes."

"Did you flush the vents?"

"Yes."

"Did I apologize about yesterday?"

"Twice," he said.

"How did you do that?"

"Healthy living."

"Phil—"

"Damn it, B'Elanna, what do you want from me?"

She struggled to find her best answer. "Okay, Phil. The approval process will take about a month."

"Thank you, and I'm sorry. I had a bad day. I don't like it when my supervisor tries to beat me up."

"I apologized. Twice."

"You're right," he said, forcing a smile. "You did. I shouldn't complain about it. Or that weak punch."

She pushed a smile back at him. "Weak is it? Take me to the holodeck, and I'll show you something weak."

He chuckled. "Take me to your quarters, and I'll show you something strong."

"That, Ensign, is insubordination and highly inappropriate."

"Yes, Mistress. Perhaps I deserve a good beating."

She smacked him across the arm. "Back to work, before I have you flogged."

"Not after?"

"No! Back to work."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"B'Elanna and Tuvok speak highly of you," Chakotay said.

"Perhaps they are being kind, sir."

"B'Elanna and Tuvok? But tell me, why do you want the Computer Core?"

"I feel I can do a good job."

Chakotay crossed his fingers. "That makes no sense, Ensign. It hardly helps your career."

"I don't need to help my career, sir. I need to do my job and help get us home."

"You're not an Academy graduate, are you?"

"No, sir," Phil said. "I received a field commission from Mister Tuvok."

"He seems to think you're Maquis."

"Not even Mister Tuvok can know every member of the crew. Personally, I've stopped caring which side anyone was on."

"Commendable. I wish you were around during that brawl."

"I was, sir," Phil said. "B'Elanna took a swing at me."

Chakotay laughed. "You're lucky you're still standing." He read from a PADD and sighed over the material. "I see nothing in your record to indicate you are the best choice for this position. The Computer Core is a very important part of the ship. I can't randomly hand this out."

"I understand completely, sir."

"If it weren't for the recommendations of your former department heads, I wouldn't consider you for it at all." He read the PADD again. "Your history is very sketchy."

"I'm from a very backward world."

"That happens." He set the PADD down and thrummed his fingers across it. "You may not be the best I've seen, but you are the only person aboard to request the job. We do need someone in the Core, you can do the job, and Mister Tuvok trusts you. Pending review by the captain, you will receive your promotion by the end of the week. Congratulations."

"Thank you, sir. I will do my best."

* * *

 **STARDATE 55231.39: Fifth Day of the Trial**

"Lieutenant Torres, why did you suggest me for the Computer Core?"

"I knew you could do the—" The sound of an infant's wail stopped B'Elanna. In the gallery, Tom shushed little Miral.

"Do you need some time?" Phil asked.

"No," B'Elanna said. "Tom?" Tom Paris carried his daughter out of the room.

"Lieutenant Torres?" Phil said.

"I knew you could do the work. I also trusted you completely."

"Did you ever regret your decision?"

"When you shut down my ship, yes."

Phil smiled. "Looking back over the entirety of my time in the Computer Core, do you believe you made a bad choice?"

"You did your job. You did it as well as I expected. You were one of the best computer engineers I've worked with. No, I don't believe I made a bad choice."

"How did you feel about the Quagaar?"

"More proof you weren't living up to your potential," she said.

"You were upset to lose me from Engineering."

She nodded. "Not as upset as Leslie, though. She begged me to send you back twice."

"Are you a better engineer than I am?"

"Yes," she said. "I am."

"But not a better scientist?"

"No."

"Do you like me?"

She paused. "In many ways, yes."

"Do you fear me?"

She stared and stared at him. "No, Phil, I don't."

"Would you serve with me again?"

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I would."

He picked up a PADD. "Were you able to find any traces of my commands in the computer after my protocol whitewash?"

"No, they were completely erased."

"Did you find any hardwired commands?"

"No."

"Are you certain?"

"Completely certain," B'Elanna said. "Seven and I missed nothing."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. No further questions."

Commander Brown stood and walked to B'Elanna. "Lieutenant Torres, I see you've distinguished yourself aboard Voyager on multiple occasions."

"Yes, Commander."

"Do you now consider yourself a Starfleet officer?"

B'Elanna touched the two Starfleet pips on her neck. "Yes, I do."

"Do you regret your time in the Maquis?"

"No."

"How do you resolve the two?"

"I haven't. That time is ended. I deal with it when I need to."

"But legally," the commander said. "All of you were given pardons."

"Yes."

"Why?"

B'Elanna looked at Phil, who could only shrug. He knew the question was coming. "We were given pardons, because we acted as Starfleet officers while aboard Voyager."

"In your opinion, did Mister Keegan act like a Starfleet officer when he added those commands to the Computer Core?"

"No."

"Did he act like a Maquis?"

B'Elanna stared at the commander. "No," she said slowly. "He didn't."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." The prosecutor sat down.

"Redirect?" Keegan said. Pek nodded. "Lieutenant, what would you have done if you found out what I was that first month?"

"Avoided you," B'Elanna said.

"If you found me in the Alpha Quadrant, before Voyager, would you have recruited me for the Maquis?"

"What?" she said.

"Would you—?"

"No," she said. "I don't believe any of us would."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."


	11. The Trial Part 6

**STARDATE 51042.57: Three Years in The Delta Quadrant**

 _"Phil," B'Elanna whispered and looked down at her towel. He pushed a finger between her breasts and tugged. The towel fell away. Strong muscles showed beneath her brown skin. At last, a woman that could survive him. She drew him to her bed. After he pulled off his tunic, she reached up and ripped open his shirt. She lunged forward and bit his chest. He groaned and pulled her face closer. She arched her head back and brought her mouth close to his._

 _"Do you know the Klingon Orgasm Ritual?" she asked._

 _"No," he said._

 _She guided his eyes above her bed. "Take the pain stick and place it—"_

"Lieutenant Keegan?" B'Elanna said.

He looked up from his food and smiled. "Yes, Lieutenant Torres?"

"How do you like the new title?" She put her tray on the table and sat down. It had taken a walk to get there. Phil always took a table in the back corner of the mess.

"I like my new quarters," he replied.

She laughed. "Benefits of rank. So, what were you thinking about just now?"

"Sex."

She laughed again. "Anyone I know?"

"Probably. It's not that big a ship."

She looked out the window and sighed. "It's been a dry spell for all of us, hasn't it?"

"Yes, but enough about the inadequacies of our respective personal lives. I wanted to ask you an engineering question. I found a lot of hardwired commands in the various transfer nodes around the ship."

"I know," she said. "They're there for maintenance and security."

"Some of the commands are very strange," he said.

"I asked one of my professors about them once. He told me I would understand them if I ever became an admiral. Until then, don't worry about it."

He scowled at the table. "Isn't it my job to understand it?"

"Not according to my professor," she said, slicing off a piece of lasagna. "You know, you sound paranoid."

"What?" he said. He appeared shocked, or hurt. "You're right. I can be paranoid sometimes." He lifted his coffee to his mouth but didn't drink.

"Maybe it's just the Delta Quadrant."

"What?" he said over the cup. "Yes, you're right. It's the Delta Quadrant." He laughed and took a sip. "The Delta Quadrant is out to get me."

"It's not the only one."

"Excuse me, Lieutenant?"

She smiled past her fork. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

"That didn't sound like nothing."

"Well—" she began.

"Am I interrupting?" Tom Paris said. He held a tray of food.

"Tom?" B'Elanna said. "I thought you were on duty."

"I can break for lunch."

"Yes, you can," she said.

"Do you mind if I have a seat?" Tom said. "What were you talking about?"

"Transfer nodes," Phil said. When B'Elanna turned back, Tom looked at Phil and stabbed his head toward the door. Phil groaned. "It can wait until later. Besides, Tom is gesturing me to leave."

"What?" B'Elanna said. She swung back around and slapped Tom in the stomach. "Why did you do that?"

Tom put his tray down. "I wanted to have lunch with you. Is that so bad?"

B'Elanna shook her head at him. "Yes, if you drive my friends off to do it."

"I'm not driving him off," Tom said. "I just want to have lunch with you."

"I know, but he's a friend. Three people can have lunch can't they?"

"Yes, I suppose three people can have lunch, but that's not the point."

She threw her hands apart. "I don't know if you ever know the point."

Neither one noticed Phil leave. God, he thought, they're already married.

* * *

The door to Philip Keegan's room chimed.

"Come in," he said.

Seven of Nine walked in through the door. "Lieutenant," she said. "I have determined you have the greatest likelihood of providing physical gratification. I wish to study this aspect of human behavior. Do you find this course of action acceptable?"

"Yes," he said. "I can agree to your proposal."

"Then we will begin the mating act. Disrobe. I will do the same."

"I'll watch for now."

"That is inefficient."

"Have you ever done this before?"

"I have not."

"Then, how do you know it's inefficient?"

"It is not logical," she said. "The act requires that we are both disrobed."

"It's not supposed to be logical," he replied. "Trust me on this."

She considered him with irritation. "Very well. I will begin." For the next twenty minutes, she struggled to remove her clothes, tugging and yanking at the tight suit. Finally, she worried her feet out of her shoes and stood. "I am now prepared for the sexual act. Remove your clothing."

"Um," Phil said. "Lie down on the bed."

"Your actions remain illogical and inefficient, but we must use the bed for the act. I will comply." She walked to the bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling. "Begin," she said.

"Begin?" he asked.

"Begin the sexual act."

"Oh, hell."

"Yes, Lieutenant. You are now required to remove your clothing and insert your—"

"Stop! Computer, end program." His quarters and Seven of Nine faded away. "I don't believe it. Only that woman could be irritating in a sex fantasy. Computer, delete program. While you're at it, delete the Kes program too."

"Specify," the computer responded. "There are two-hundred and thirteen 'Kes' programs on file."

"Mine! Delete mine." He walked off the holodeck muttering, "This was just a bad idea."

* * *

"Ensign Sandra Donnelley, sir," she said. She pulled a panel from the side of the Main Computer.

"Another Irishman. Glad to hear it. A British captain makes me nervous." He monitored her actions on his control panel.

Donnelley laughed. "I think she was raised in America."

"And I was raised near Borneo. Let's not quibble. I never met you when I was in Maintenance. Why is that?"

"Denise Reed told me she'd make my life hell." She removed a component, ran a repair tool over it and replaced it.

"You outrank her."

She repaired another component. "Did you ever bug your older siblings?"

"Constantly," he said. "Isn't she dating Jerry, now?"

Sandra stopped. "Yes, she is." She continued with her work.

"So, you're safe?" he asked.

She dropped her eyes. "I guess you could say that."

"Do you like Thai food?"

She put her tool down and walked around the console to him. "I don't want to go to Sickbay."

"My cooking isn't that bad."

"You know what I mean."

"I thought Starfleet officers didn't fear the unknown. Or a challenge."

She walked back to her tools. "I like Cantonese."

"I know a few recipes."

* * *

"You never talk about yourself," Phil said.

Sandra let her robe drop. "This is all you need to know," she replied. She pushed up on her toes to reach his mouth.

"I'm serious," he said. "I want to know about you." He took hold of her.

"And I want to moan beneath your fingers. Which sounds like more fun?"

"Okay, that does sound like more fun. But after three weeks, I expect more from a woman than just sex." He carried her to the bed.

* * *

Sandra stabbed around at her salad. "So you hated your cousin. So what?"

"The point is, you know that. You know my sister is a writer. Do you even have siblings?" He pushed his plate away and ignored his food. He also ignored the other people in the mess hall watching them.

"I want that part of my life private." She ate a forkful of salad and chewed slowly.

He leaned forward on the table. "I can strip you naked and do anything to your body—"

"God, yes."

"But, you won't tell me your first assignment out of the Academy. You won't even tell me when you graduated."

She tossed her fork down. "Why does that even matter? Honestly, Phil, we're having a good time. You don't enjoy that?"

He watched her and watched her. "No. I need more."

"I don't." She stood up. "I need less. I'm sorry."

* * *

 **STARDATE 55237.21: Seventh Day of the Trial**

"Commander Chakotay," Phil said. "Please explain the dichotomy of the Computer Core."

"It is one of the most important parts of the ship," the commander began. "But it requires very little maintenance. Officers are usually assigned to the Core only when they can go nowhere else. Often, the Core is without a department head, or a department for that matter, and the Chief Engineer oversees the maintenance of the computer. In spite of the security checks and evaluations required for the post, in spite of its importance, assignment to the Core often results in the stagnation of an officer's career."

"Why did you give me the assignment?"

The commander crossed his fingers. "Considering how far we were from the Alpha Quadrant, I didn't think there was anything you could do."

"Do you believe I did my job well?"

"Yes," Chakotay said slowly.

"Did you ever reprimand me?"

"No."

"Did you consider me a good officer?"

"Yes, I did."

"Mister Tuvok thought I was Maquis. Why didn't you ask him about that?"

"I had more pressing matters at the time."

"Of course. However, it is the job of the First Officer to oversee the crew. My successful deception doesn't reflect well on you. Can you justify the error?"

"I thought you might have been a spy like Seska, or—" Chakotay looked at the admirals. "—something else. After Mister Jonas was exposed, I relaxed my view of you. We needed our crew unified. According to everyone I talked to, you always pressed for that. Your service in security showed your dedication to the ship. I considered your irregular history odd, but nothing more."

"If you had been in my position, as a Maquis infiltrator for example, would you have done what I did?"

"Yes, I believe I would."

"How would you justify those actions to yourself?"

"The Maquis always felt what we did was right."

"Was it right?" Phil asked.

Chakotay reviewed the question. "I know that we failed, but I don't know what we did was wrong."

"What I did, was that wrong?"

Chakotay looked hard at Keegan. "Yes," he said.

"What would you have done if you found out what I was?"

"Arrested you."

"Why?"

"To protect the ship and her crew. That's my first duty."

"You were a good Starfleet officer."

"Yes," Chakotay said.

"But you were Maquis."

"Yes."

"Your crimes were forgiven," Keegan said.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"The captain had no choice," Chakotay said. "We needed each other."

"Did you need me?"

"You helped us."

"Did I need you?" Keegan asked.

"Yes," Chakotay said. "You couldn't survive the trip back alone."

"Then, was I a threat?"

"No."

"So why did you fear me?"

"I didn't," Chakotay said. "Until I knew what you were."

"Thank you, Commander."

Commander Brown stood after Keegan sat down. "Tell me, Commander, as Voyager's First Officer, how many crimes did you commit?"

"None," he said. "At least, not willingly."

"Yes, there was that incident. I'm curious, Commander, how serious do you consider Mister Keegan's crimes?"

"He requested that assignment with the purpose of betraying it."

"Do you like him?" the prosecutor said.

"Until he took over the ship, he never gave me a reason to dislike him. He annoyed me on a couple of occasions, but nothing else."

"On what did you base your decision to give him that post?" Commander Brown asked.

"Mostly on the opinion of B'Elanna Torres," Chakotay said. "She thought highly of him. She praised him. That's something rare for B'Elanna."

"And Mister Tuvok?"

"Tuvok trusted him. That's also something rare."

"What did your personal evaluation of him reveal?" the prosecutor asked.

"He did his job better than expected. Whatever the job."

"Do you believe he served his ship to the best of his ability?"

"Yes, I do."

The commander blinked sharply. "I'm sorry, what?"

"If we knew what he was, the captain would have imprisoned or abandoned him. His oath required him to serve. He could not serve from the brig, so he was required to lie and underperform to serve at all. Instead of some of his ability, we would have gained none of his ability."

"You believe his crimes were justified?"

The commander shook his head. "Not all of them, no. But I believe withholding irrelevant or private information for his own protection is not a crime."

"You sympathize with his actions?"

"With his actions? No. But I understand his motivations."

"Thank you, Mister Chakotay," Brown said. "No further questions."

After a moment of silence, Admiral T'Lara said, "Mister Keegan, do you have any more questions for this witness?"

"No, Admiral, I don't." He smiled as he said it.

"Mister Chakotay," T'Lara said. "You may step down."

* * *

 **STARDATE 51115.63: Three Years in The Delta Quadrant**

"Computer, locate all references to a Philip Keegan, born nineteen-seventy-three, attended MIT beginning in nineteen-eighty-six."

"References found."

Keegan read through the short history of his life.

"Locate the optical storage chips in the protected archive that hold these records."

A list appeared on a different screen.

"Computer—" He took a deep breath. "Computer, delete the identified files from the Primary and Auxiliary Cores."

"Deletion of a protected memory file requires the approval of two senior officers."

He pushed himself away from the console and took another breath.

"Computer, engage protocol Valjean, authorization Keegan, beta-two-nine-one-four. Bypass memory safety protocols."

"Confirmed."

"Delete the requested files."

"Files deleted."

"Mark the selected memory chips as damaged. Record the damage under the following conditions."

He input a series of damage reports.

"Confirmed," the computer responded.

"Delete this session, disengage protocol Valjean, delete protocol Valjean and all records pertaining to it."

"Confirmed."

"Run a level three diagnostic and correct any damaged files."

"Beginning diagnostic."

Keegan opened a panel in the floor and climbed down to the archive room. He took a tool from his belt. Walking along the wall of glowing chips, he found the first record. He put the tool to the base of the chip and disengaged its connection. He watched it in his hand and considered crushing it. He shoved it in a pouch and moved on to the next chip.

So this is it, he thought, hours later on the holodeck. He looked on the remains of a battle. The victors gathered their dead for burial. The losers waited for the birds. At the center of it all, a man sat on a boulder and wept, but not for them.

The door of the holodeck slid open and B'Elanna entered. Phil did not turn. He continued to watch the man weep.

"What is this?" B'Elanna asked.

"The last battle fought by Alexander the Great."

She looked at the man on the boulder. "He has no more worlds to conquer?"

"No. It didn't work."

"What?" she asked.

"He conquered the world, because he was lonely. He wanted the world to love him. Many of us still do. But it didn't work. He was still lonely."

B'Elanna shook her head. "I've never heard that interpretation. As a Klingon, I always thought I understood Alexander."

Phil laughed. "No one really understands anyone. That interpretation came from my grandfather. He had a unique view of history."

She turned toward him. "I thought your cousin was obsessed with Alexander. Didn't you say that once?"

"Yes, but it was my grandfather who understood him." He did not look back.

"You know," she said. "There's a party on holodeck one."

"So I heard."

"Some people were asking about you."

"Did they send you after me?"

She watched him more closely. "Yes," she said.

He took a slow breath and let it out. "That's too bad."

"You owe me a dance," she said.

"We did dance, remember?"

She looked at Alexander. "You'll become as obsessed as your cousin," she said lightly. She didn't notice his fist clench.

"My cousin is dead. The starship he was on blew up."

"I'm sorry," she said. "Were you close?"

"He was once my hero."

"It's hard to lose a hero," she commented.

"That depends on how you lose them."

She walked in front of him. "It's hard to lose a friend too."

"I suppose it is."

She growled a Klingon curse at him. "I don't _care_ what it was. Nothing could be that bad!"

He stepped uncomfortably close and leaned his mouth next to her ear. "Don't be so certain of that," he whispered harshly.

She quivered when he spoke and did not stop until well after he was gone.

* * *

 **STARDATE -333516.43: July 8, 1990**

An army of onlookers cheered as the first DY-50 planetary transport lifted off the launch pad. It carried a small crew and components of the new space station. In one of the observation booths, Philip Keegan raised a glass of Champaign to the ship. An arm's length away, one of Phil's brothers embraced his sister and kissed her deeply. Another sister, Gescilene, massaged Phil's arm and kissed his shoulder.

"Disappointed?" she asked.

"He promised me Mars."

"He lied," she said and walked in front of him, her hand on his arm.

"I know." He pressed his lips against hers. "Doesn't mean I can't be happy about the launch."

She adjusted his shirt over his broadening shoulders. "That's true, I suppose."

He pressed himself against her expanding chest. "We helped them today. That won't change. He can't take it back."

"You sound the way I do when I save someone in the ER."

"No, I don't. You giggle."

"I do not giggle," she said. "How many more are going up?"

"This year? Four. The first DY-seventy will be ready next august."

"When will I lose you to the red planet?" she asked.

"When I can beg the trip out of him."

Phil's brother looked up. "Stop! Stop such bitterness. Today, we are happy."

"Phil," his other sister said. "Have you picked your sports?"

"Where did that come from?" he said.

"I want to know. I had mine picked the day of the announcement."

"It's two years to Barcelona. Give me time."

"Remember," Gescilene said. "Phil's still struggling with his Master's degree."

They laughed, and Phil smacked his sister on the ass.

"What is wrong with you kids?" a voice called out behind them.

"We're enjoying ourselves, Cordaro," Phil said and hugged his sister.

"I know. I just wanted to make you jump," Rodriguez replied. "Phil, Gesci, could I see you?"

They groaned to each other and followed their cousin. He walked them to one of the secure hangers. Phil looked up with pride as they passed the DY-50. As they rounded the engines of the launch vehicle, they saw Zi Lin, his arm in a cast, standing over a man strapped to a chair.

"Foreign spy?" Gesci ventured.

"Not as far as I can tell," Zi said. "He calls himself Gary Seven."

"Is that a joke?" Phil asked.

"No," Zi said. He held up his broken arm. "Neither is this. He and his partner put up a hell of a fight."

"Why?" Gesci said.

"The only thing I've been able to get out of him is that 'This shouldn't happen. The launch isn't right.' I don't know what he means by that or how he did this to me. I haven't seen mental discipline this strong since Grandfather."

"What do you want us to do?" Phil asked.

Zi tossed him what looked like a mutated fountain pen. "Tell me what you can about that. The circuitry self-destructed, but you might learn something about the materials."

"And me?" Gesci asked.

"I need to do some tests on him, but I can't like this," Zi said. "He looks like a normal human, but he didn't fight like one. I want to know why. I'll need the works. Start with an MRI. Give me a full report after the dissection."

"What—" Gesci said. "What about his partner?"

"She was a normal human."

"Oh."

"Nathari and Kashmira are upstairs," Phil said. "I could use their help."

"I'll get them," Rodriguez said. "You go to the lab."

Gesci took hold of Phil's arm and squeezed until he winced. "I know," he whispered.

"Get going," Zi said.

Phil nodded and left. He had the pen under an electron microscope when Kashmira walked into the lab. "Where's Nate?" he asked.

"He went to help Gesci," she said. She started up the mass spectrometer. "Do you want to go somewhere and get drunk?"

"Not as much a Gesci."


	12. The Trial Part 7

**STARDATE 55242.35: Ninth Day of the Trial**

"Are you ready, Mister Tuvok?" Phil said to the computer screen. On the screen, Tuvok gave a single nod. To the Vulcan's left, a middle aged man scowled and shook his head, not lifting his eyes to the display. "Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. Please remove the dedication plaque." Tuvok took a step toward the plaque, a molecular welder in hand.

"Your honors, this is not necessary," the middle aged man said. He pointed to the plaque and the names that covered it. "Those men and women were heroes."

"That may not be the case," Admiral T'Lara said. "We have a responsibility to the truth, Mister Gladstone. Mister Tuvok, remove the dedication plaque."

Tuvok placed the tip of the welder to the first rivet. The plaque he touched read "S.S. Valkyrie, First of the DY-50 Transports, Launch Date July 8, 1990". Names of human engineers, etched into the metal, covered the space below the date. Tuvok separated each rivet from the wall and peeled away the plate. Signatures eight columns wide and twenty rows deep filled the smooth square of metal behind the plaque.

"Computer," Phil said. "Focus in on the signature in the second column, third up from the bottom."

The view on the courtroom display zoomed in. The members of the court struggled to read the grotesque handwriting. Only the "P", the "h" and the "K" could be easily identified.

"That will be all," Admiral Chauhan said, and the display zoomed out. "Thank you, Mister Gladstone."

The curator of the Utopia Planitia Museum responded by taking the plaque from Tuvok and leaving.

* * *

 **STARDATE 54874.88: One Month Before Voyager's Return to the Alpha Quadrant**

"All of them?" Phil said.

"Yes," Crewman Chell responded. He set down a plate and glass.

"Instead of colonizing the nearest Class-M planet?"

"Yes," Chell said.

Phil shrugged. "And all this time, I thought it was just Neelix."

He finished his meal, and Chell removed his plate and utensils. After Chell left, Captain Janeway walked in. She ordered the guards to leave.

"We're going to move you," she said. "We can't keep you in here forever."

"I was wondering when you would get to that."

"You'll be in one of the least used parts of the ship and still under guard."

"No replicator or computer access?"

"You'll have an independent computer, and food will be brought to you. We will also allow you some books and other personal items. But no technology. The computer will be sealed off."

"I'm not going to do anything."

"I know," she said. "I wish you would sometimes."

"Is it really that bad out there?" he asked.

She sighed. "Where you're concerned, it is. You're creating a new rift. Some of your friends have gotten into fights."

"I'm sorry. I don't want that."

"What do you really want?" Janeway asked.

"Revenge against Khan for what he did to me, and I want my siblings to be remembered for the good people they were."

"What does that mean to you, siblings and cousins?"

"Same batch, siblings; different batch, cousins. Ten batches, one hundred to a batch. We called the genetic engineers our parents. Some of them probably were."

"I'm not surprised you have rogue scientist in your blood," she said.

"They weren't rogue. They were part of a large project that began in eighteen-sixty-eight."

"You mean nineteen."

"No, eighteen-sixty-eight. A scientist, a true rogue, started it after reading Origin of Species."

"We were told—"

"No," Phil said. "Only direct genetic manipulation began in the nineteen-sixties. Selective breeding began a century earlier."

"I wonder why we never knew."

"The selective breeding didn't produce emotional instability. Those scientists were arrogant but not at the level of Khan."

"Every time we talk," she said, "I feel a little of history destroyed."

"I could destroy a lot more, if you'd like," he said with a smile. "Human ego has always tried to make history and the universe fit its desires. The ego has always lost. Even for the best egos among us."

"Is that why you are the way you are? Do you feel your ego losing?"

"No," he said. "It's for a completely different reason."

She found she wanted to draw out the conversation. She shook it off. "We'll move you in two days. Give the guards a list of the items you want from your room."

When she left and the guards returned, one of them walked to him with a PADD. She watched him with eyebrows raised.

"Lieutenant Munro, how are you?" he asked.

"Should I shoot you or slap you?"

"You made your choice. You got your answers."

"Definitely shoot you," she said. "Maybe later."

* * *

Two days later, four guards escorted Philip Keegan to his new quarters. Tuvok spent the previous eight days on every small detail, insuring that even Mister Keegan could not escape the room. Unlike Phil's first trip through the corridors, no crewmembers watched him pass. The captain ordered the route off limits. Keegan, his hands cuffed in front of him, enjoyed the opportunity to walk more than three strides without hitting a wall. The guards, two humans in front and two Vulcans in back, walked with rifles ready but expected no trouble. At the largest intersection, the humans advanced, watched the length of the side corridors, and motioned the procession forward. When the Vulcans reached the intersection, a flash grenade and a sonic grenade struck.

Keegan dropped to the ground as the first phasers hit. He crawled to one of the stunned humans, felt around in the burning white and took his comm badge. Phil tapped it, whispered "Tuvok," and stuck the badge to his shirt under his tunic. A hand took hold of his arm and pulled.

"Come on," a voice said through the metallic hiss in his ears. The hand pulled him down a corridor.

He regained his sight just as they entered the access corridor to the Aero Shuttle. "Why are you doing this?" he said.

Sandra Donnelley turned and kissed him. "Do you need to ask?"

"Yes," he said.

"In my era, we don't stop caring for someone just because we broke up." She opened the hatch to the repair bay around the shuttle.

"I know. That doesn't answer my question."

She reached the ventral hatch and tried to open it.

"That won't work," he said.

"It worked yesterday."

"We didn't have a security lockdown yesterday."

"Don't worry. I know a few tricks." She took out what appeared to be a normal tricorder and removed a non-standard device from it. She set the device on the hatch control panel and entered commands onto it. The hatch didn't open. She entered the commands four more times. She climbed down the side of the shuttle and opened a panel. She removed, examined and replaced some of the components. "I have it all set up," she said as she worked. "I installed a cryogenic chamber in the Aero Shuttle along with a holographic engineer and pilot. You'll be back in the Alpha Quadrant before any of us. You'll be safe."

"I took them out," Phil said.

"The cryogenic chamber?" She moved to a new panel.

"The hardwired commands."

She looked up. "What are you talking about?"

"The hardwired commands built into the transfer nodes. I took them out."

"What?"

"What are you called?" he asked.

"What are who called?"

"Your organization," he replied. "In my day we called them secret police. What does Starfleet call them?"

She watched him with narrow eyes and a clenched jaw. "What did you say?"

"People today are very trusting, especially of Starfleet. No one would look for a department like that. You must find it very easy to hide." He smiled, as if at an inside joke. "Paranoia has some benefits over trust."

"You bastard. That's why you were sleeping with me."

He shrugged. "If it's any consolation, I broke it off when I started to like you."

"No, Phil, it is not a consolation." She raised her phaser. "You're getting on that ship and going back to the Alpha Quadrant."

"I want my trial."

"Starfleet wants you back as soon as possible," Sandra said. "The engineer has schematics from the Delta Flyer. She'll be just as fast when he's done."

"Starfleet didn't issue this order. They want to kick me out."

She said, "We're offering you a way to serve in Starfleet. Do you want to abandon that?"

"Yes."

She took a step toward him. "I don't care."

He jumped forward. The phaser struck his shoulder and numbed his arm. His other hand took the phaser from her. He bent it in half and tossed it away.

"I will stay here," he said.

She punched at him. His left arm, dragging his numbed right, knocked her hand away. She kicked out. He blocked with his knee and jumped back. She attacked with more force and fury, continuing to attack until Janeway and Tuvok arrived.

"Mister Keegan," the captain said. "Stop this before I stun you."

"I'm not fighting back," he said. Donnelley punched and kicked at him with great skill. He blocked her hits or took them when necessary. His face was bruised and he favored one leg, but he never attacked.

"Ensign Donnelley," Tuvok said. "I will not permit this."

She continued to fight. Tuvok fired a phaser between them. When that failed, he shot her leg. She dropped with a yell.

The captain tapped her badge. "Security—" she began.

"No!" Donnelley said. "You can't do that. Tuvok, starlight protocol, code Winslow eight-one-five. I commandeer this ship."

"Your code is correct," Tuvok said. "But I will not permit this. You do not operate with the approval of Starfleet. Mister Keegan was correct."

"What?" she said.

Keegan threw the comm badge to Tuvok.

"You son of a bitch," Donnelley said.

"Mister Tuvok," the captain said with a little sarcasm. "Could I have an explanation?"

"They are called Section Thirty-One."

"No!" Donnelley said. "You are not permitted to discuss this."

"They tried to recruit me out of the Academy. I declined, but duty prevented me from revealing them," he said. "They are Starfleet's espionage division. I do not know why they want Mister Keegan, but they are not autonomous. They cannot take him without Starfleet approval."

"Why is she on my ship?" Janeway said.

Tuvok said, "Most starships, especially the long range exploration vessels, have one operative in the crew. As Security Chief, I was made aware of certain commands. If a crewmember gave me those commands, I was required to allow him or her to complete one action without interference. After that, the crewmember would be immediately transferred."

"You are in violation of numerous Starfleet security directives," Donnelley said. "You'll be stripped of duty. And he—" She pointed at Keegan. "Is guilty of removing hardwired security commands from Voyager's computer system." She turned to Phil. "You're out of Starfleet no matter the results of your trial."

"I'm certain the new charges will be added to the list," Tuvok said. "However, if this is not sanctioned by Starfleet Command, both of us will be cleared of the charges."

"Ensign Donnelley," the captain said. "You will return to your duties in maintenance until I speak with Starfleet. You will be monitored. Those hardwired commands will not be put back unless I receive a direct order from Admiral Paris. You will not be allowed near Mister Keegan or any of the shuttles. I will maintain your anonymity, but this is my ship. You will not supersede my authority again."

"My orders—"

"Are irrelevant," the captain said. "Everyone has made sacrifices because of the Delta Quadrant. This is one of yours. Disobey my commands, and I will put you in the brig. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"No one will record this incident." the captain said. Donnelley nodded. "Mister Tuvok, escort Mister Keegan to his new quarters."

"Yes, Captain," he said.

"Mister Keegan," the captain said. "These grandiose performances of yours are growing tiresome. Could you try to avoid them?"

"I will do my best, sir."

"I can't ask for more than that."

* * *

One month later, as Philip Keegan sat at his computer composing a new paper, the intercom chimed. "Lieutenant, you have a visitor," a guard said. "Step away from the door."

Without looking up, he replied, "I am."

The door slid open, and a security officer stepped in with his rifle raised. He aimed the rifle at Keegan, waited to see if the eugenic would move, then nodded to someone outside. Admiral Kathryn Janeway walked into the room, crossed to a chair and sat down. The security officer, phaser still aimed at Keegan, stepped back, and the door closed. The admiral sat and waited, legs crossed, until Keegan finished his paragraph.

"Admiral Janeway?" he said, turning to her. "Admiral. What can I do for you?"

With age, the natural gravel of her voice had turned to a rasp. But it still held all of its strength. "It's good to see you again, Phil."

"Am I dead?"

"No. You were in prison."

"I lost?" he asked.

"Yes. You were discharged and imprisoned for ten years."

"Am I out?"

"No," she said. "You were granted a special pardon after five years. I haven't seen you since."

"Section Thirty-One," he said. She nodded. "I must have been very desperate."

"You loved Starfleet. In five years, you became my Chief Science Officer. Leslie Willis stepped aside so fast, I thought she hurt something. You served well. I promoted you to Lieutenant Commander. Every last one of us testified for you, those two out there included. It didn't mean a damn thing."

Phil shrugged. "They had more time to prepare their case."

"That wasn't it. You always told me you had an ace in the hole, but you were afraid to use it."

"Not afraid, Admiral, I'm not sure it would be right for a Starfleet officer to do something like that."

"You never told me what it was," she said.

"I don't think you'd like it."

"I hate it when you say that."

He felt the need to chuckle. "I'm proud of my counterpart. I'm glad he didn't use it."

"He couldn't," she said. He tilted his head at her. "We were still five years from home. We were in the Alpha Quadrant but not close." She sighed around the memories. "The Borg attacked the Federation. Starfleet ordered you into Astrometrics. We set up a replicator, a bathroom, a shower, a bed, everything for you. You were there for a month without communication. Just you and Pathfinder. When you walked out, you told me you were going to prison. The next thing we heard, the Borg had been defeated. The Federation was safe. When we returned home, they took you into custody before the celebration even began." She scowled at her memories now. "It was your ace, wasn't it?" He nodded. "You said you'd tell me one day. Why did the Federation abandon its savior?"

"They didn't," he said. "I don't know how to defeat the Borg. My counterpart did his duty, as a good Starfleet officer. I'm sure he knew the consequences. And Starfleet Command did their duty, as they saw it. I'm actually glad. It's good to know I progressed that far. I do thank you for the warning about Section Thirty-One and their special pardon."

"It will be different this time," she said. "The Borg haven't attacked. You still have your ace."

"Yes, and I must make the choice to use it or not," Phil said. "I must decide what is right for a Starfleet officer."

"You were the best Science Officer I ever had. That should tell you what's right."

"Unfortunately, I don't have my counterpart's years of service to draw on. I'm still struggling with the question."

"Your admiral is ordering you," she said.

He smiled. "My admiral is also breaking the Temporal Prime Directive. Maybe you didn't make me better. Maybe I made you worse."

"Oh, god," she said with a laugh. "I hate it when you do that. Promise me one thing, promise me you'll tell _her_ one day."

"I promise."

"You'll be getting out of here. They need your help to install the new systems."

"No, they don't," he said.

"They do if I say so."

"Yes, Admiral."

"And, Phil," she said, standing. "If I don't see you again, I enjoyed working with you."

"Thank you, Kathryn. I enjoyed most of my time on Voyager."

She called to the guard and left.

* * *

Lisa Hununga stared down the short length of the Jefferies tube and watched Phil laughing over his work. "What are you laughing at?" she asked.

"I'm sorry. I can't say."

Lisa turned back to her work. "Written any papers?" she said.

"A few." Phil removed a shield control unit and replaced it with the upgraded design.

"I want to read them." Lisa pulled out a gel pack, injected a circuitry upgrade and replaced it.

"I'll send them to you." Phil replaced a panel, removed another and began disconnecting another shield control.

"You owe me dinner."

He stopped his work and inched around in the Jefferies tube. "You're right, I do."

"B'Elanna said you cook." Lisa continued working, never looking at him.

"Yes." He turned back.

"My mother made a very good sayadiyah."

"I know a recipe. I'll have to replicate the ingredients."

"Officer's Mess at eighteen-hundred."

"That may be difficult," he said.

"I'll speak to the captain."

He sighed. "I'll be there."

They crawled out of the Jefferies tube to a waiting security officer.

"I have him," the officer said. "Jefferies tube three, hatch b. Now moving to hatch d."

"Proceed," Tuvok replied over the comm.

Lisa stopped the officer. "Lieutenant Munro," she said.

"Lieutenant Hununga," the officer replied.

"Lieutenant Keegan is preparing a dinner at eighteen hundred hours. Would you join us?"

"I would be pleased to," Munro said.

"Very good," Lisa said.

"If you will proceed to hatch d?" Munro replied and gestured them on. Lisa nodded and followed close to Phil.

Four hours later, Phil distributed the plates of fish and rice, and Lisa poured the wine. The small clutch of diners in the otherwise empty mess hall waited with eagerness. Lieutenant Commander Tuvok and four of his security officers watched with phasers in hand.

"It's not how my mother made it," Lisa commented, sitting at her plate.

"It's my sister's recipe," Phil replied.

"Was she a scientist, too?" Leslie Willis asked.

"No, a writer."

"That was true?" Munro said. Phil laughed and nodded.

"May I read her work?" Jessica said.

"After the trial," he replied.

"Not much longer now," Tom said.

Leslie groaned. "Oh god, I have to tell my mother I'm married to a Maquis."

"You didn't tell her yet?" Jessica asked.

"It's not that easy," Leslie said. "She's a commodore."

"You told me you told her."

Leslie raised her eyebrows and looked for help.

"So, Phil," Lisa said. "What was your childhood like? We know so little about your people."

"The genetic engineers didn't think our development stopped with birth. We spent our childhood learning everything they could teach us."

"Wasn't that difficult?" Tadao said. "Not to have a childhood?"

"We didn't know anything different," Phil replied. "But I don't regret it. I still learn everything I can. Now I have a galaxy of knowledge around me."

"How many papers did you write back then?" Jessica asked.

"One hundred and thirty. Seventy-two were published by others. The remainder are still in archive. I also encoded twenty-six other papers into the written works." Phil smiled. "We liked codes."

"I hated your people," Tom said. "My mother's great-grandfather loved his captain. His anger stayed with my family."

"I'm sorry about Astrometrics, Tom. I shouldn't have done that."

"You're right," he said. "You shouldn't. What the hell. Family forgives."

Phil turned away from that comment.

"What was he like?" B'Elanna asked and touched her stomach. "My daughter's ancestor?"

"A sick bastard like most of them. He told me he dated human women as a hobby. He died early in the war." Phil took a sip of wine. "He was an electrical and mechanical engineer and built the world's first production model hydrogen fuel cell car."

"Llawdden Roche?" Tom said. "I didn't know he was a eugenic. Or that we were related."

"What about the other batches?" Tadao said. "Were they all like Khan? I mean, I'm trying to understand why you are like you. I want to be ready when I testify."

"I can't give you your answers, Tadao," Phil replied.

Tadao shook his head. "I need to understand you, so I can evaluate you, Phil," he said. Some of the others nodded at the statement.

"We're going to testify, Phil," Lisa said. "We need to know what we're talking about."

"I'm not sure if that's a good idea for you, Lisa," he replied.

"Why not?" she said.

"I don't want them turning you into another Marla McGivers." The people at the table stopped eating and stared at Keegan. "What?" he said.

"We don't do that in the Federation, Phil," B'Elanna said.

"Oh," he replied. He turned his wine glass. "I'm sorry."

"A third of the crew has volunteered," she continued.

He raised his eyebrows. "That many?"

"You have more friends than you think," she said.

Jessica sipped her wine and said, "You told the captain the eighth and ninth batches also had emotional development." She let it hang as a question.

"Yes," Phil said. "The eighth batch didn't turn out well. They were mad geniuses. A hundred Fermis that seemed to be everywhere all the time. Only three of them survived to the Trials. One of them apologized for taking up everyone's time."

"That guy?" Tadao said.

Phil nodded. "Batch nine may have been the worst of them. They believed they were superior, but they were cautious. They picked their battles. Khan took only one batch nine with him. That didn't surprise me. Those two were always close. That war would have turned out very differently if Khan had been one of them." His voice began to fade and his eyes drifted to the gold distortions in his glass. "My batch did the best they could."

"Were they all like you?" Munro asked.

"No. My sister Gescilene was the best of us."

"What did she design?" Leslie asked.

Phil shook his head. "Nothing. She was an emergency room surgeon. She saved hundreds of unimportant lives, often waiving her fee. She helped anyone she could." He sighed. "She would have understood your world much better than I do. She would be so much a part of you now, you wouldn't care where she came from." He lifted his head. "She died six weeks after the probe took me." He returned to his food.

"I hate to say this," Munro asked. "But what was Khan really like?"

Phil's face solidified and he bent the fork in his hand. People stopped their movements, tried to be quiet. They watched Phil reach out and carefully set the twisted utensil on the table.

"He was a man who knew how to be loved," Phil replied.

They finished eating in silence. Everyone carried their dishes to the kitchen except Phil. Lisa took his. With the meal ended, he was required to remain visible to the guards. Tuvok ordered Phil to one of the doors. Lisa followed at a respectable distance. The guards at the door did not move.

"I don't believe any of it," the closest said.

"I'm sorry," Keegan replied.

Tuvok said, "Ensign, step aside."

The officer didn't turn. "The Nobel Committee is considering asking my family to return the medal."

"I'm sorry," Keegan said again.

"What gives you the right?" the ensign asked.

"Ensign," Tuvok said. "You will step aside."

The officer stepped back, and Keegan continued on.

As Phil passed, the second officer said, "You're just like him."

Phil turned so fast, only Tuvok could follow the motion. Keegan took the officer by the tunic and shoved him against the bulkhead, screaming, "I am _nothing_ like Khan Noonian Singh!"

Lisa and the rest of the Science Department crew stepped back. Munro drew her phaser, and Tom pushed his wife behind him. Tuvok and the other security raised their weapons. Only Tuvok breathed normally.

"Lieutenant," someone said from the door.

"What the fuck do you want?!" Phil turned sharply and closed his eyes with a sigh. "My apologies, Captain."

"Put Ensign Kruger down," she said.

"I'm not holding him in the air."

"Then let go of him," she replied. Phil complied. "Thank you. I believe your dinner break is over."

"Yes, sir."

"If everyone has eaten," she said, "everyone should return to their duties. I don't believe we have the time for more recreational activities." She turned to Tuvok. "I'll have a moment alone with the lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," Tuvok said and followed the others out.

"I'm sorry, Captain," Keegan said.

"I don't pretend to understand you, Mister Keegan. This is not easy on anyone." She watched him. "Not on any of us. I need to know something. We are about to enter a most difficult area. I need my best pilot."

Phil sighed. "Your people never understood that. I am better than you in a lot of ways, but I am not better at everything. Khan would say that. I know I'm imperfect. Tom is your best pilot."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I believe you." She stepped to the door and called for Tuvok. Two new officers led Keegan away. What was it her counterpart had said about him? Too much and not enough. Damn it.


	13. The Trial Part 8

**STARDATE 55059.01: Two Months Before the Trial**

Anzhelika Ponomarev graduated third in her class. She held degrees in law and history. She surged to the rank of Commander early and held it, refusing captaincy or higher and the judicial positions those ranks offered. Early in her career, she selected the defense chair. Her superiors complimented her decision as her medals showed. When Voyager returned, and the announcement was made of the eugenic's trial, she condemned the actions of Starfleet and called for the immediate dismissal of Keegan. Admiral Chauhan approached her personally for the defense. To convince her, he provided records of her husband. He, and by extension her son, were descended from a eugenic. According to Keegan's information, he was a fifth batch named Borritz. She shouted, she screamed, she pulled away from her husband's touch. Her husband took one of her medals from its display and threw it to her. Excellence in the Service of Truth. She took the job.

She entered his cell and shook his hand briefly. "Lieutenant Keegan, my name is Commander Anzhelika Ponomarev. I will be your defense attorney."

"Commander, it will be pleasure working with you, but I prefer to defend myself. I will need your help as co-counsel, though."

She raised her eyebrows. "You speak Russian, and very well."

"I speak seventeen languages, average by the standards of my family," he continued in Russian. "The Universal Translator is wonderful, but I miss the variety of voice."

"I admit," she said. "It's nice to use the native tongue once in a while. I don't recommend defending yourself, though."

"You can't know my case as well as I do."

"I know Federation law."

"So do I," he said. "I learn quickly. Seven years was more than enough."

"Well, I can't stop you." She removed several PADDs from a briefcase. She tossed them to him across the length of the cell, describing each in turn. "Here is a list of your charges with all pertinent references. Here is a list of possible witnesses. This is a complete account of the statutes you've described along with a list of cases involving each. Some of the cases are more recent than Voyager's memory."

"Starfleet transmitted a lot of this information in a large block," he said. "I'm sure this is complete. I will go over it later. I need to talk to you now."

"About what?"

"For one thing, you're cowering from me. You can step closer. I won't hurt you."

"It takes a little getting used to," she said.

"If you are afraid to sit next to me, it will weaken my case."

She stepped closer and sat down on the cot. "I am a Starfleet officer. I will do my duty."

"Thank you."

"As your co-counsel, I recommend you take a deal. I've seen their offer. It's very generous."

"No. I will not be moved from this."

"Philip," she said, forcing his name. "It is not in your best interest. They will imprison you. You have admitted to your crimes."

"I have been reprimanded for some of them already."

"They have taken that into account. But, this isn't your century. Double Jeopardy doesn't work the same way. We don't reward deceiving the court. They won't include those charges, but they will consider your actions when determining your sentence."

"I know this."

"Mister Keegan—"

"Lieutenant."

"What?"

"Always call me 'Lieutenant Keegan'," he told her. "I want them to remember I am an officer."

"Of course," she said. "You need to know; the tribunal will consist of admirals currently serving on the Federation Council."

He whistled. "They want this done right. I didn't realize I warranted that amount of attention."

"I'll assume you want the prosecution to proceed first."

"No. I'll go first."

She shook her head. "Even in your day, they recognized the benefit of presenting second."

"That's not the case here. I know what the prosecution will do. I know what parts of my past they will discuss. I need to prove my humanity to the tribunal before the prosecution can show me as a devil. If I don't cushion the blow, I'm lost."

"Your past is that bad?" she said. "Of course your past is that bad. What have you done?"

"Much of it falls under the protection of war. I was responding to attacks from others. My batch did as little as possible to help the other eugenics. I also need to show the contributions we made."

She winced. "A lot of people are upset by what you've revealed."

"It doesn't matter what the general population thinks. The tribunal will view it correctly."

"Your unpublished papers have been pulled out of archive."

"Good," he said.

"Some of the ideas were published by others."

"Those scientists are innocent. It's a case of simultaneous discovery."

"Good. I'll make that information public." She took a slow breath. "I am required to inform you that you are not allowed to mention Section Thirty-One."

"I understand."

"They also guarantee Section Thirty-One cannot approach you."

"Or abduct me."

"Yes. And, they recommend that you continue to use your telepathic shield." She picked up a PADD. "Now that we have that out of the way, what do you need me to do?"

"I have a list of witnesses."

"I'll get them. A third of Voyager's crew has offered to testify."

"I know," he said.

"Admiral Janeway's testimony will carry particular weight."

"Admiral? From captain? That's impressive."

"Starfleet promoted about half the crew," Ponomarev said. "Most of the Maquis had their honorary rank made official."

"That's good to know."

"I need to know this," she said. "How much like Khan are you?"

"That is a very good question," he said. "I am more like him than I want. I have spent the last seven years trying to change that. But we were raised the same way. That can be difficult to overcome."

"The prosecution will use that."

"So will I," he said. "Please be ready for it."

She lowered the PADD. "It would be best if I knew more."

"Not in this case."

"Very well, but don't lie to me. Ever. I will quit if you do."

"I can accept that," he replied.

She searched through the PADDs, finally finding the one she needed. "Are these all the contributions of the other eugenics?"

"No," he said. "Some of them will be more difficult to take. I want to reveal those during the trial."

"The prosecution will contest admissibility without some prior disclosure."

"It's not the prosecution that worries me," he told her. "Some people will try to suppress the information or hide the evidence. I can't allow that."

"Why would they do that?"

"I've received more than a hundred letters demanding I recant my authorship of the Unclaimed Thesis. One of them was signed by two-thirds of the Daystrom Institute's Physics Department. Some of the other information has a greater following."

"Like what?"

"My sister's novels, for one," he said. "She wrote two-hundred and twenty-six of them."

"Wow. That's the same as— No!"

"Her daughter."

"That can't be. She was born in twenty-thirty-four."

"She was the daughter of two batch ten eugenics," Phil said. "She had a three-hundred-year lifespan. She published the novels under her mother's name. In her original 'life' she worked as a literary historian. She also published her father's symphonies, claiming—"

"They belonged to her brother." Anzhelika lowered her head to her hand. "God. No wonder her books were so dark. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Don't worry." He let the information sink into her before continuing. "The event in _Diary of a Child's Moment_ was real."

"What?" Her voice wavered.

"It all happened, just as she described it."

All she could say was, "Oh."

* * *

Simone Brown graduated near the middle of her class, but she rose in rank faster than the valedictorian or any of the others. She took the most difficult cases she could get, pursuing the truth and the safety of the people of the Federation as passionately as any deep space explorer. Many years earlier, she prosecuted Tom Paris. His father wanted it done right, without a hint of bias. A way of teaching his son. She begged for the opportunity to prosecute Philip Keegan. She found many of his comments disturbing. Reviewing her own life, third generation Starfleet with enough officers in her family for a tactical fleet, she realized she had never dated outside of Starfleet. Her studies prevented dating before Academy acceptance. Afterward, she found only other officers could keep up with her mentally or physically. Then there was the revelation about that book.

"When I was twelve, I wanted to marry you," Commander Brown said.

"That's a tough book to read at twelve," Phil replied.

"It took several tries. I strongly considered science because of 'Kieron McCray'."

"I'm sure you chose the right path," he said.

"In light of this evidence, I'm willing to improve your deal. The tribunal has agreed."

"I believe you."

The commander closed her eyes and shook her head. "I can see why you frustrate Admiral Janeway so much."

"Commander, I want to remain in Starfleet for more reasons than those described by my sister. I will not leave unless forced out."

"I believe you," she replied. "I understand why you hate Khan so much, but you don't need to pay for his crimes."

"First, you don't know why I hate Khan. Kashmira left out the worst part of that event, and she didn't have the chance to include some later details. Second, it's more than just Khan's crimes."

"There's ... worse?" she asked.

"You have no idea."

"Very well," she said. "Mister Keegan—"

"Lieutenant."

"Lieutenant Keegan, are you certain that what you are doing is in the best interest of the Federation?"

"No, I believe what I am doing is necessary."

"As you wish. You understand, my sympathy for you will not interfere with my responsibilities."

"I understand, Commander," he said. "I expect nothing else."

"Understand this as well, a painful past does not make you a good officer. Starfleet considers revenge a poor motivation," she told him in a steady voice.

"It's not revenge, Commander," he replied. "To be honest, I don't want the job if I don't deserve it."

Her head tilted to one side. "You don't actually know, do you?"

"A Federation trial is about finding the truth."

"I look forward to it, Lieutenant."


	14. The Trial Part 9

**STARDATE 55244.86: Tenth Day of the Trial**

"Admiral Janeway," Commander Ponomarev said. "Please describe your relationship with Lieutenant Keegan."

"I served as his commanding officer for seven years." She understood why Lieutenant Keegan chose Ponomarev to question her, but she was embarrassed that it was necessary.

"How did you come to view him?"

"For most of that time, I barely knew him."

"Yes," Ponomarev said. "An away mission brought him to your attention. How did he perform on that mission?"

"He risked his life to save another officer."

"Yes. Ensign Nureek. We've heard his testimony." Ponomarev rose from her chair and walked to the front of the table. "You ordered him to design a method of helping the Quagaar. How did he do?"

"Very well," the admiral said.

"Better than your Chief Engineer, in fact."

"The problem was one of geology, not engineering. Lieutenant Keegan was better suited to the job."

"You planned to promote him to the bridge, is that correct?"

The admiral nodded. "During gamma shift, yes. I wanted him at the science station."

"Why?"

"He could do the job."

"So could many others. Why him?"

Janeway looked over at Keegan, then back to the commander. "I felt he showed a lot of potential."

"How do you feel now?"

"I feel the same."

Ponomarev shrugged. "Is it really a lot of potential?"

"What?" Janeway asked.

"He's a eugenic. Is he really showing more potential than he's worth?"

"I don't understand."

"As a eugenic," Ponomarev continued, "He's not really showing potential. He never risked his life to help Ensign Nureek. The Quagaar problem never challenged him. What did you reward?"

Janeway scowled. "I rewarded his dedication," she said.

"You said you rewarded his potential. Did he show his true potential?"

"No," Janeway said, looking at Phil again. "He held back."

"Then, what did you respond to?"

"He did his duty," Janeway said. "Whether he wanted to or not."

"Thank you, Admiral." Ponomarev returned to her chair.

"Admiral Janeway," Commander Brown began. "Do you consider Lieutenant Keegan a good officer?"

"Yes," she replied.

"And you would serve with him again?"

"Yes."

"He lied to you. Often. He falsified information and corrupted Voyager's database. How can you forgive that?"

"His lies were personal, not professional," Janeway said. "The information was likewise personal. I have the right to withhold embarrassing information from my commanding officer, for example."

Commander Brown contemplated the admiral. "What do you believe is his worst crime?"

The admiral sighed. "Interfering with the development of a sentient."

"The ship's doctor?"

"Yes," Janeway said.

"Why is that his worst crime?" the prosecutor asked.

"It violated the Prime Directive," the admiral answered.

"Didn't you yourself violate the Prime Directive your first day in the Delta Quadrant?"

"Yes," Janeway said.

"Please," the commander continued. "Explain the difference." She spoke in an even tone without sarcasm.

"I did it to help the Ocampa."

"And Lieutenant Keegan?"

"Lieutenant Keegan," the admiral said, "reprogrammed the Doctor to help himself."

Brown paused over the words. At last, she said, "Tell us about the mutiny."

"Lieutenant Keegan took control of Voyager to prove a point," Admiral Janeway said.

"Did it work?"

"Yes."

"What exactly did he prove?"

"That he did not need to command those around him," Janeway said.

"Why did he even think of it?" the commander said.

The admiral glanced at the tribunal. "I am not permitted to answer that fully," she replied.

"Yes, of course. But, was his action necessary?"

"No," Janeway said.

"What should he have done?"

"As a Starfleet officer, it was his duty to provide his captain with any information the Federation deemed important."

Commander Brown said, "And that included his background, whether he fell under the scope of the regulation or not?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because," Janeway said, "He was a Starfleet officer. At the very least, he had the responsibility to tell me my questions entered personal territory. Instead, he deceived me."

"What would you have done, had he told you?"

"Put him in the brig and had him watched."

"That was hardly in his best interests," Commander Brown said.

"His interests were not the issue."

"Then, as a Starfleet officer, he doesn't have the right to defend himself?"

The admiral scowled openly at Commander Brown. "Not when it interferes with his duty."

"He did his duty when saving Ensign Nureek."

"Yes, he did," Janeway said.

"Does he have the right to pick and choose when he will obey his oath?"

"No. Starfleet regulations are clear."

"Thank you, Admiral."

"Defense?" Admiral Chauhan said.

"Thank you, Your Honor," Ponomarev said. "Admiral Janeway, when you discovered what Lieutenant Keegan was, what did you do?"

"I ordered him stunned on sight."

"Was your action justified?"

"No," Janeway said. "I owed him the same loyalty I owed any member of the crew."

"Have you been charged for your action?"

"No."

"When did Philip Keegan alter the Doctor's programming?"

"In his third month aboard Voyager," the admiral said.

"Was the Doctor sentient at that time?"

"I don't know."

"Doctor Zimmerman himself testified that was unlikely," Commander Ponomarev said.

"I trust his answer."

"Then tell me, when does Lieutenant Keegan's crime begin?"

The admiral sighed. "When Mister Keegan realized himself that the Doctor had achieved sentience."

"When was that?" Ponomarev said.

"I don't know," the admiral said slowly.

"Is the Doctor sentient now?"

"I believe so."

"Can you prove it?"

"No," Janeway said. "I cannot."

"Doctor Zimmerman also testified that the amount of influence from Lieutenant Keegan's addition to the Doctor's program was minimal. Does that matter?"

"I don't know."

"You altered the Doctor yourself, didn't you?" Ponomarev said.

"His ethical subroutine entered a feedback loop. Lieutenant Torres made the actual change."

"How is this different?"

The admiral lowered her head while she thought. "Mister Keegan's action was selfish," she said at last.

"Would the Doctor withhold Lieutenant Keegan's secret if asked?"

"He is programmed for doctor-patient confidentiality."

"Yes," Ponomarev said. "What would cause him to violate that?"

"Evidence of a crime."

"Is Lieutenant Keegan's eugenic heritage a crime?"

"I don't know."

"In your opinion," Ponomarev said, "Could the Doctor know?"

"Do you mean, is he programmed for it?" the admiral asked. "No. He is not."

"Would he have informed you of the Lieutenant's background?"

"He might."

"Would he have that right?"

"I don't know," Janeway said.

"Did you consider these factors when you punished him for this act?"

"No."

"What did you consider?" Ponomarev asked.

"I believed Lieutenant Keegan was a good officer trying too hard to prove himself to those he felt stood in judgment of him. I believed he made a mistake of innocence."

"And now, would you alter his punishment?"

"No," the admiral said plainly.

"Thank you, Admiral."

* * *

"Ambassador," Keegan said, walking to the door of his cell. "This is most unexpected."

"I am not pleased to be here," Ambassador Spock replied. "The solidarity created by the Dominion War between the Federation and the Romulans has allowed me this time away from my work. I did not wish to spend that time sitting in defense of a eugenic of old Earth. I believe I have experienced more than enough of your people."

"I apologize, Ambassador. You are correct, of course. I know more than any the difficulties Khan could create for those around him. What he did to you and those aboard the Enterprise are but the least of his crimes."

"His crimes and yours are not dissimilar," Spock said.

"'Never argue with a Vulcan'. Commander Chakotay once mentioned that," Keegan said. "You are correct again. I am not arguing innocence, Ambassador, I am arguing motivation."

"I know neither your mind, nor that of Khan."

"It is not your place to know, sir. It is your place to deliver testimony. The tribunal sits in judgment. You can provide information of particular importance. That is all I ask."

The ambassador shook his head. "You understand; your claims are difficult to believe."

"Yes, Ambassador. Tell me this, can you imagine what Khan would have been like as an elder sibling? Or as a surrogate father?"

"Supposition in the absence of sufficient information is not logical."

"Damn Vulcans. Again, yes. I can tell you, sir, no one from the Enterprise could hate Khan as much as I do. That is not supposition."

Spock regarded the statement with slow precision. "I am not pleased to see one of your kind in a Starfleet uniform, but I wore one long enough to know the duty it commands. I have reviewed your career aboard Voyager. It is a dichotomy, but one that supports your claim. But, you also had access to Voyager's historical records. You are certainly intelligent enough to learn from Khan's mistakes. I will present the evidence you ask. That is my duty. I will also consider the possibility you are deceiving the tribunal. If I see evidence of that, I will make that information known."

"You understand humans very well," Keegan said. "Do you understand penance?"

"I have seen it."

"I have lived it for seven years. I will not deceive anyone. I want very much to prove I am what I claim." Phil lowered his eyes and raised them again with determination. "Tell me how he died."

"You have read the records."

"I have," Phil said. "I want to know what he was when he died."

"He was a man who pursued the mechanism of his own failure."

Phil sighed, slow and stuttering, a primal release. "Thank you, sir. That is more than I hoped for. When this trial is ended, I would like to speak with you again on a very different matter."

"Perhaps, Lieutenant. You remind me a great deal of someone I once met. I am interested to discover just how similar you are."

"So am I."

* * *

"...His final act was to attempt to destroy the Enterprise," Spock told the court.

"And your response?"

"I gave my life for my ship and crew."

"Tell me, Ambassador," Keegan said. "Have you reviewed my analysis of the history of the Vulcan people?"

"I have," Spock said.

"Do you consider the ideas valid?"

"They are worthy of investigation."

"How similar are eugenics to Vulcans?"

"Vulcans are slightly stronger and faster. Endurance and intelligence are comparable."

"And, you are telepathic."

"There are human telepaths, though they are rare."

"And not as gifted," Keegan said.

"It is not a gift. It is a quality of the species."

"But, your species is superior."

"That is not an accurate conclusion," Spock said.

"What is the accurate conclusion?"

"Lieutenant, you know as well as I that a perfect determination cannot be made. You are asking why Vulcans are allowed into Starfleet and eugenic humans are not. Eugenic humans have shown mental instabilities. Vulcans have not. Humans, in fact, are the only known species to use eugenic manipulation. If my long distant Vulcan ancestors manipulated themselves to this point or evolved here naturally is not known. We may never know. However, Vulcans can control their emotions and deal more effectively with their advantages. Humans do not show that same capacity. You wish to know if you remind me of Khan. You do not. Neither do you resemble a Starfleet officer. Lieutenant, you control your advantages better than Khan. That is all I can say."

"Thank you, Ambassador," Keegan said.

Commander Brown stood. "The prosecution has no questions for this witness."

"Very well," Admiral T'Lara said. "Ambassador, the court thanks you for your time."

* * *

"Lieutenant," Ambassador Spock said. "You are a curiosity."

"Is that good?" Keegan said through the security field of his cell.

"I did not apply morality or quality to the comment. It was only an observation."

"I want your approval, Ambassador," Keegan said. "I want to know what you value."

"I value the truth. I value logic. I value what helps the many. I thought you would know that."

Keegan nodded. "Yes. I hoped you valued redemption."

"Redemption is a selfish act. Do not redeem yourself, Lieutenant. Do what is right for the people of the Federation."

"I struggle with that, sir. I hope I will select the correct answer."

"I doubt I will be here to see that," Spock said. "I will likely die on Romulus. I suspect you are honest about your origin, but I am not certain that fully frees you from your heritage."

"No, Ambassador, you are correct, it does not. That will require vigilance and determination."

"That is the most correct comment you have made, Lieutenant. I hope you will succeed."

* * *

"Did you reprimand Lieutenant Commander Data for his action?" Keegan said.

"No," Captain Picard replied stiffly. "I did not."

"Please tell the court why."

"Lieutenant Commander Data believed he protected a developing sentient lifeform. It is the duty of Starfleet to seek such life, not order it to its death."

"Are they alive?" Keegan asked. When Picard did not answer, he said, "Captain? Are they alive?"

"Further study indicates only a rudimentary intelligence, but enough to justify Mister Data's actions."

"Those actions did not bother you?"

"No," Picard said. "He did his duty as a Starfleet officer."

"That duty permitted him to put your life at risk?"

"Yes," Picard said.

"If I served aboard your ship, how would you react to my actions?"

"Dismiss you immediately," the captain said.

"Why?"

"Your crimes were selfish."

"How so?"

"Objection, your honors," Commander Brown said. "Lieutenant Keegan is fishing for rationalization. Jean-Luc Picard was not his captain and does not sit in judgment of him."

"I agree," Chauhan said. "Mister Keegan, keep your questions more relevant."

"Yes, sir," Phil replied. "Captain, do you fear Lieutenant Commander Data?"

"No," Picard said harshly.

"Why not?"

"He has proven himself to me."

"Did you fear his brother?"

"What?" Picard said.

"Did you fear Lore?" Keegan pressed.

"I was aware of the danger he represented."

"How was Data's construction different from that of Lore?"

"Your honors," Brown said.

"This will all be made clear when I question Mister Data," Keegan said.

"This tribunal is not fond of tricks, Lieutenant," Chauhan said. "Keep that in mind. Captain, you may answer."

"The difference is one of programming only," Picard said.

"How would you, as Mister Data's commanding officer and friend, define the difference?"

"It is," Picard said, "one of character."

"Thank you, sir."

"No questions," Brown said.

"Your next witness," Admiral Pek told Keegan.

"Lieutenant Commander Data." Data took the stand. "Mister Data, I asked you to review my analysis of Starfleet Academy. What are your conclusions?"

"Your analysis has merit."

"Describe the differences between the Academy and the eugenic program that developed me."

"The Academy was not a conscious effort at eugenics. Development in the Academy is also much slower and does not exhibit the same emotional instability that affected many of your kind," the android replied.

"Very good," Keegan said. "Tell me, Mister Data, are you more intelligent than me?"

"Yes."

"Are you stronger?"

"Yes."

"Are you faster?"

"Yes."

"Longer lived?"

"Potentially."

"Why?"

"Well," Data said. "For one, my servo motors generate—"

"No, Mister Data," Phil said. "Not how. Why? Why are you stronger than I am?"

"I do not understand."

"I know how your body is stronger than mine. I am asking you why. Why did Doctor Noonien Soong make you that strong?"

"I do not understand."

"Is your strength necessary for your operation?" Keegan asked.

"I must be capable of movement to perform my duties," Data replied.

"The same could be said of a lawn mower. Could you still function—"

"Objection, your honors," Brown said, rising. "Mister Keegan is badgering a respected and decorated Starfleet officer. I move—"

"Objection overruled, Commander," T'Lara said. "We will hear this out."

Keegan waited for permission from the court before continuing. "Could you still function," he said, "if you were only as strong as a normal human?"

"Yes," Data said.

"Or as fast as a human?"

"Yes."

"Or with the lifespan of a human?"

"Yes."

"Then," Keegan said. "Why are you stronger than me?"

"My father designed me that way."

"Yes, he did. He also designed your brother that way, did he not?"

"Yes," Data said.

"Your brother was shut down and you were built because Lore frightened the colonists of Omicron Theta. Is that correct?"

"Yes, it is," Data said.

"Would Lore have been as frightening if he did not have his superior physical abilities?"

"I do not believe so."

"If Doctor Soong knew those physical abilities made humans nervous, why build you the same way?" Keegan asked.

"I do not know."

"Speculate. You are the foremost authority on Soong-type androids and Doctor Soong himself. Why would he do this?"

"Perhaps he felt safe with my programming."

"Why not simply transfer Lore's brain to a weaker body?"

"My brother would have rebuilt his original body," Data said.

"Why?"

"He did not want to be...," Data said, looking at the tribunal. "To be as weak as a human."

"Isn't that eugenic manipulation?"

"He was an android."

"Yes, Commander, but isn't it the android equivalent of eugenic manipulation?"

"Objection," Brown said. "Mister Data is not an expert in eugenics."

"Mister Data holds a degree in exobiology," Keegan replied.

"The court will hear Lieutenant Commander Data's analysis," Admiral T'Lara said.

Data continued, "One could argue that interpretation."

"And," Phil said, "If that interpretation is valid, you yourself are eugenic. Is that correct?"

"That is also plausible."

"Should you be in Starfleet, Mister Data?"

"It is not my duty to make that determination," Data said.

"No, it is not. It is the duty of a Federation tribunal. Will you request such a tribunal?"

"No," Data said.

"Why not?"

"I want to remain in Starfleet."

"Thank you, Mister Data." Phil returned to his seat.

Commander Brown stood and walked to the center of the room. "Mister Data," she began. The commander tapped her PADD.

"Commander?" Data said cautiously.

"Have you ever placed your own interests above that of the Federation or the crew of the Enterprise?"

"Once, when my brother deactivated my ethical subroutine."

"Have you, of your own free will, acted against the people of the Federation or violated the regulations of Starfleet?"

"No, Commander," Data said slowly. "I have not."

"Thank you, Mister Data."


	15. The Trial Part 10

**STARDATE 55248.08: Eleventh Day of the Trial**

"Doctor Bashir," Phil said. "How long have you served in Starfleet?"

Bashir, his head turned away, watched Keegan sideways. "Ten years," he said.

Keegan stepped forward and Bashir winced. "You are eugenic yourself, are you not?"

"Yes," Bashir said.

"Doctor, are you a Starfleet officer?"

"Yes."

"Please act like it."

Bashir's head snapped forward, his eyes wide. He straightened his back and tugged his tunic into place.

"Thank you. You are also an expert on eugenics. Tell me, what do you think of my analysis of Starfleet Academy?"

"If any manipulation exists, it is not intentional."

"I am not arguing intent, Doctor. Is the analysis valid?"

"It is possible, but I cannot support it one hundred percent."

"What percent can you support?" Keegan asked.

"Perhaps seventy," Bashir said.

"Have you suffered much discrimination since Starfleet discovered your status?"

"Some, not much."

"Describe it."

"Objection, your honors," Brown said. "Doctor Bashir's difficulties have no bearing on Mister Keegan's actions. He was not aware of Doctor Bashir's status when he committed his crimes."

"The objection is sustained," Admiral Chauhan said.

"Yes, sir," Keegan said. "Doctor, you have worked extensively with other eugenics. Are they all emotionally unstable?"

"No," Bashir said slowly.

"You were, in fact, able to help one of them, were you not?"

"Yes, Sarina Douglas."

"The other eugenics predicted the Federation would lose the Dominion War. Is that correct?"

"Yes," Bashir said.

"Then, a eugenic can be—"

"Now!" someone yelled from the back of the gallery. Keegan, Bashir and the rest of the court turned to the noise. A tall redheaded woman in a security uniform stood up in the back of the room. "Now, Bashir!" she said. Julian groaned. The woman started forward, her eyes on Keegan. Two security officers intercepted her. She slid past one and twisted the other to the ground. When more security pressed toward her, a mature cherub of a man, dressed as an admiral, ran past the guards. One guard tried to stop him. He tripped her and jumped over her, landing in a clutch of Voyager's crew. Tuvok caught and controlled him. While the struggles occurred, Keegan scanned the front of the gallery. He stopped on a man dressed as a captain. The man's eyes gleamed wide, and he jumped at Keegan.

"Jack, stop it!" Bashir said.

Jack punched at Keegan. In a single move, Phil blocked the fist and struck Jack across the jaw. Jack fell back. He paused for an instant and leapt at Keegan with both feet. Phil caught him and shoved him hard into the ground. He held Jack in place.

"He's killing me!" Jack yelled. He twisted and screamed in agony. "Look at him! Look at what he's doing! Ahhh!"

"Lieutenant?" Chauhan asked.

"He's faking it," Phil replied in a calm tone.

"Stop it, Jack," Bashir said.

"He's killing me! He's killing me!"

"Stop it!" Bashir said. "Your faking it. We can all tell."

Jack stopped struggling and turned toward Bashir. "You can?"

"Yes. Now, stop it."

"He can't be allowed to exist," Jack said.

"Why is that?" Commander Brown asked.

"He's a murderer. He's killed thousands. Millions."

"No, I didn't," Phil said, but he sounded angry as if caught in a lie.

"You designed the fusion reactors!" Jack yelled.

"I helped to design them," Phil said in a flat voice. "But Khan ordered their detonation. I was half-way to the Delta Quadrant then."

"Millions died because of you!"

"Over a billion," Phil said.

"He admits it!" Jack screamed.

"We already knew it, Jack," Bashir said.

"What?"

"He confessed those actions before the trial," Bashir continued.

"He did?"

"Yes."

"All of them?"

No response. Keegan pulled Jack to his feet and pushed him at a Vulcan security officer.

"The defense would like to request a brief recess," he said.

"All of them?" Jack said. Keegan walked through the clutch of people to the defense table. "Everything?" Jack yelled.

"You're fishing for an answer," Keegan said.

"But there is an answer."

"That," Phil said, "is the responsibility of the prosecution."

"Tell me!" Jack screamed.

"Why?! So you can find out if you're exactly like me?"

Jack winced away. His companions cringed and lowered their eyes. Bashir ignored the reactions of his former patients in favor of the clear self-loathing in Philip Keegan's face.

"Your honors," Commander Ponomarev said. "The defense has requested a short recess."

"Yes, Commander," Admiral Pek said. "This court is in recess for thirty minutes. Security, remove these people."

While security pulled the eugenics from the room, Anzhelika Ponomarev leaned toward her client and whispered, "Phil—"

"Thank you, Lika," he said.

"I was doing my duty."

"I know," he replied. "Thank you."

Thirty minutes later, and with more security in the room, Lieutenant Keegan continued his questioning.

"Have you continued your professional relationship with Sarina Douglas, Doctor?"

"Yes," Bashir said. "I examine her once a year to see if there is any change in her behavior."

"Has her emotional state deteriorated?"

"No."

"Then, Doctor Bashir, it is possible for an advanced eugenic to be emotionally stable."

"Yes, but Sarina and the others haven't received as much manipulation as you." Bashir stopped on his own words. "Wait. That doesn't—"

"Thank you, Doctor," Keegan said. "Tell me, why did your parents have you altered?"

"How could that be?" Bashir continued. "You were—"

"Doctor! I will ask the questions."

"Yes, Lieutenant. I... I was suffering in school because of my inadequacies."

"Tormented because of them? Particularly considering the reputation of your parents?"

"Yes."

"How many people suffer from averageness today, Doctor?"

"Obviously, there's a range of the best and worst."

"Are the worst rewarded in today's society?" Keegan asked.

"No."

"Are they condemned?"

"Children can be cruel," Bashir replied.

"Yes. I know. What about adults?"

"Very rarely."

"Yes, it is a more tolerant society."

"Exactly," Bashir said.

"Then, you had nothing to worry about when you reached adulthood."

"I suppose not."

"Do you enjoy your abilities, Doctor?" Keegan asked.

"Enjoy them?"

"Yes. Your understanding of medicine, for example. Do you feel a thrill when you discover something new or when you read a particularly insightful paper from one of your colleagues?"

Bashir lowered his face. "Yes. I do."

"Do you have that right?"

"The right?"

"Do you ever feel guilty knowing you may be stealing someone else's discovery?" Keegan asked.

"Stealing?"

"Yes, Doctor. If you had not discovered polytransitional recombinant cellular cohesion, for example, someone else would have. You, in effect, stole the discovery from that other researcher, whoever that might have been. Does that make you feel guilty?"

Bashir answered with a nervous nod.

"Your 'natural' colleagues, do you think they feel guilty?"

"I don't think so."

"What is your crime? What causes your guilt?"

Bashir sighed and spoke as if the answer were old for him. "I cheated."

"And, your colleagues did not?"

"Correct."

"Why is that?" Keegan said.

"They were born with their abilities."

"So what?"

"I'm sorry?" Bashir said, his head at a tilt.

"Is your surgical ability cheating when you save a life?"

"Yes."

"Do the patients care?"

"Some of them, yes."

"Do you care?"

"I feel guilty, as I said," Bashir said.

"Do you think about that while you're helping them?"

"Yes."

"Does it stop you?" Keegan said.

"No."

"Are you glad you are able to help them?"

"Yes."

Keegan smiled at a distant memory. "What are we, Doctor?"

"Eugenic."

"Yes. What does that mean? We had no choice in what we became. What are we? What do we represent?"

"Vanity," Bashir said as if familiar with the answer. "We represent the vanity of our parents."

"What is the strongest species in the Federation?"

"That's difficult to say exactly. There are many forms of strength," Bashir said.

"In a general way," Keegan replied. "As you would classify strength."

"The Horta."

"The longest lived?"

"The Medusans."

"The most intelligent?"

"The Vulcans."

"Tell me, Doctor, what advantage do I have over those races?"

"I don't know," Bashir said quietly.

"What advantage do you have?"

Bashir turned his head in thought. "None," he said.

"Why did you apply to Starfleet when you knew it was illegal?"

"I wanted to serve in Starfleet, and I wanted to help people."

"Why did you want to serve in Starfleet? Helping people could be done anywhere," Keegan said.

"Because it's Starfleet. It's special."

"Thank you, Doctor." Phil returned to his seat.

"You have quite a list of deceptions to your name, Doctor Bashir," Commander Brown said.

"Yes," he replied.

"Your father paid for those deceptions, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did."

"Did you ever alter medical records to hide your nature?"

"Not exactly," Bashir said. "As a doctor, I knew how to confuse the sensors."

"Did you ever rewrite computer records or delete files?"

"No."

"Did you ever misrepresent your abilities?"

"Yes," Bashir said. "But never with a patient."

"Did you ever take control of a starship or Deep Space Nine to hide your identity or make a point?"

"No, never."

"Did you ever put anyone at risk—"

"Objection," Keegan said. "Lieutenant Commander Tuvok and Lieutenant Torres have proven Voyager and her crew were not at risk while I was in control."

"The objection is sustained," T'Lara said.

"Yes, sir," Commander Brown said. "Doctor, have you ever lied directly to a superior officer?"

"Directly? No."

"Are you afraid of Lieutenant Keegan?"

Bashir lifted his eyes to Keegan. "Yes."

"Why?"

"He likes what he is."

"Why would that frighten you?" Commander Brown asked.

"I was salutatorian of my class, because I was one of the best. I have been asked if I intentionally failed to get valedictorian. I didn't. That wouldn't be the case with Philip Keegan. He would place himself exactly where he needed to be. He would choose his position because he could."

"Phil?" Commander Ponomarev whispered.

"Do you have an objection?" Admiral T'Lara said.

"No, sir," Keegan replied.

"Please, Doctor," Commander Brown said. "Continue."

Bashir took a breath and let it go. "I believe Mister Keegan has decided where he wishes to be in Starfleet. He has created a scenario for it. He will get what he wants, because we cannot know how to stop him."

"We are pawns?"

"No. Not pawns. We are elements of the equation. I don't think he can view us as human. I don't think he can understand what we mean to ourselves and our society. I don't think he can understand what humans have become. I think he is the worst thing I have faced." Bashir stopped. He looked around the floor, trying to find his answer. "No. He is like something I faced. He is like the Founders. He has that same disregard for the sentience of others."

"That's a very strong comment, Doctor. Can you justify it?" Brown asked.

"No," Bashir said quietly.

"Thank you, Doctor."

"Redirect?" Keegan said. T'Lara nodded. "Doctor, do you know why I hate Khan Noonian Singh?"

"I've read _Diary of a Child's Moment_."

"That tells you what he did to my siblings and me. Some of it, anyway. Do you know what he did to me?"

Bashir shook his head.

"How did you feel about the Founder that replaced you?"

Bashir tried to respond, but failed.

"Now, imagine you grew up with him and, at the age of six, looked at him as your hero. How would you feel?"

"Objection," Commander Brown said. "I don't see how this has relevance."

"Sustained," T'Lara said. "Any other questions, Lieutenant?"

"No, sir."

After he was dismissed, Bashir walked toward the exit but stopped near the defendant's table. "I don't hate the Founders," he said.

"Who do you hate?" Keegan replied.

"I hate what happened."

"Thank you, Doctor. I think you do understand me."

* * *

 **STARDATE -342376.59: May 18, 1981**

"Thank you, Kashmira, that was very insightful," the teacher said. Like all the teachers on the island, he was also a genetic engineer, a fifth generation eugenic, and the biological father of one or two of the eugenic children. "Gescilene, can you describe the similarity of reincarnation imagery as used by Li Po and Marot?"

Gescilene did not answer. Instead, she looked toward the door of the classroom. Philip Keegan, sitting behind her, followed her head and saw Allyn McPherson enter the room.

"Mister McPherson," the teacher said. "How may I help you?"

"I'm sorry, father," he said. McPherson and the teacher looked nothing alike. "I'm afraid you've become a problem."

"Problem?" the teacher asked. McPherson took him by the head and snapped his neck. He turned to the children.

"Bury him," he said. "And dig enough graves for all of them." He spoke in a gentle tone, without anger.

Phil and Gesci, closest to the teacher, stood and picked up his body. They carried him out of the building, followed by a long line of their siblings. More batch ten children, with bodies in hand, met them at a large, unused field. Shovels arranged like a pyre awaited them. The children dug without voice or tear. When the first group was buried, Khan walked out and ordered half the children back inside to get the rest.

"What do we do?" Kashmira whispered.

"Shut up!" Phil said.

"Dammit, Phil—" Kashmira started.

"Shut up! There's more than enough room here for us." Phil pretended to wipe sweat away. "Try writing something."

"Do you—" Gesci began. "Do you want to talk about reincarnation imagery?" She responded to her own question by stabbing her shovel blade and two inches of handle into the ground. She scooped out a block of dirt the size of her ribcage and tossed it onto a pile.

Phil jumped into a grave and pulled in one of his mothers. He lay her flat on the soil, crossed her arms and, with a snap, straightened her head. He closed her eyes and climbed out.

Nathari began to whistle. Slow and steady, he created a requiem as he worked. The slice of his shovel set the tempo. Phil, Kashmira and Gesci picked up the refrain. Others down the line collaborated in tone. A symphony of fifty voices and fifty shovels and more bodies than they wanted to count.

Days later, Phil sat in the library. Once a week, each child was given three hours alone to pursue themselves. Khan, it was said, rewrote Sun-Tzu and applied it to the instincts of Alexander. Kashmira wrote novels. Nathari transcribed his music. Gescilene studied surgical techniques. Phil usually read physics journals, but not this week. A large unread stack stood at one end of his table. A small finished stack lay turned over at the other end. In the center of the table, an eight-year-old boy cried for his parents.


	16. The Trial Part 11

**STARDATE 55434.01: Eighteenth Day of the Trial**

"Gordon's Island, near Borneo," the computer said. "A mass grave of four hundred and forty-eight people was discovered on this island in twenty-seventeen. The site was dated to between nineteen seventy-seven and nineteen eighty-three. No reason was found for the grave. The event was attributed to the eugenics, but never confirmed."

"The defense wishes to enter this information into record," Keegan said.

"So noted," Admiral Pek replied.

"The defense calls Captain Montgomery Scott to the stand."

The fifty-year space veteran walked to the witness chair with a snarl and a grunt. He sighted down the length of the room and watched Keegan rise and walk around the defense table. Keegan gave the captain a moment of unrestrained hatred before he began.

"Captain Scott—"

"You'll get no help from me."

"Captain," Admiral Chauhan said. "You may be retired, but you are still a Starfleet officer. I expect you to do your duty."

"Aye, sir," the captain said. "Ask your damn questions," he said to Keegan.

"Thank you, Captain. Do you fear me?"

Captain Scott ground his teeth hard. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Why?!"

"Yes, Captain," Keegan said.

"What the hell do you mean 'why'?!"

"Captain Scott," Chauhan said. "Please control yourself."

"Aye, sir," he said. The captain turned to Keegan. "I fear you for what your kind did."

"My kind, Captain, but not me. What did I do?"

Captain Scott watched Keegan in silence.

"Captain, what did I ever do to you?"

"Not a damned thing," he said.

"So, you fear Khan."

"Aye."

"Why?"

"Is that your question?"

"Captain," Keegan said. "Please respond."

"He tried to kill the captain, is all. And killed my own nephew. And Mister Spock. Is that reason enough for you? He tried to take the ship. When he couldn't get it, he tried to destroy it. Is that reason enough to fear him?"

"No," Keegan replied. "It is not. The people you mentioned were all Starfleet officers. They knew the risks."

"The hell they did! My nephew was a cadet. He didn't know a damned thing."

"He knew to stay at his post," Keegan said.

"Damned straight! And it got him killed."

"Shouldn't he be commended for that?"

"No, damn it! He should be alive."

"But, he was Starfleet. He knew the risks when he applied."

"The damn scientists didn't!"

"Scientists?" Keegan asked. Simone Brown and Anzhelika Ponomarev leaned forward together. Their eyes met. For the first time, Anzhelika saw the cunning of her client. She didn't like it.

"Aye," the captain continued. "The scientists of Regula One. He killed them, tortured them! I saw the bodies. Do you have any idea what he did to them?!"

"Yes," Keegan replied. "He tortured me the same way."

Captain Scott's face drained of blood and anger, and he fell back.

"Objection!" Commander Brown said. "Move to strike."

Keegan turned his head around toward Commander Ponomarev. He raised an eyebrow at her.

She spoke in a stilted voice. "A spontaneous declaration should be reviewed by the court for admission."

"That was not spontaneous!" Commander Brown said.

"The declaration occurred in open court without prompting from the prosecution," Ponomarev continued. "It deserves review."

Chauhan, watching Keegan, said, "The defense co-counsel is correct. The statement will be reviewed. Mister Keegan, I assume you have no further questions for this witness."

"No, sir," Keegan said. "I do not."

"This court stands in recess for the next twenty minutes," Chauhan said. "Mister Keegan, I suggest you take the time to speak with your co-counsel."

Back in the holding cell, and alone with her client, Anzhelika Ponomarev tried to pace away her anger. "What the hell were you thinking?" she yelled.

"I needed them to know the information."

"Not like that!"

"I needed them to understand," Keegan said.

"By embarrassing a legend of the Federation? Are you insane?!"

"They needed to hear it."

"Hear what? What did he do? Why did he do it?"

"I cried," Keegan said. "We all did when our parents were killed. The scientists would torture us for an hour each week, so we would not fear pain. Khan increased it to three hours every day until we stopped crying. He took three sessions with me himself. He was very professional in his work."

"Tell them that, for god's sake. That's what you do in the Federation. Tricks like this, manipulations, are wrong. Do you have _any_ idea how much you've damaged your case?"

"No," he said simply.

"I made myself believe you belonged in Starfleet. I'm not sure now. When we go back out there, you damn well better do things the Federation way."

"I understand."

"That ace, can you still use it?"

"Yes, but I don't know if I should."

She exhaled as much anger as she could. "You must do what is right."

"I am beginning to understand that," he said.

When they returned to the courtroom, Admiral Chauhan asked Keegan to explain his comment. He did.

"We believe you, Mister Keegan," Chauhan said. "However, we do not agree with your method of presentation. In addition, we feel the information, though exculpatory, is supplemental to the events on Gordon's Island. We do not need that information to understand you suffered as a child. The statement will not be admitted."

The admiral asked Commander Brown if she had any questions for Captain Scott. She did not.

"Mister Keegan?" Chauhan said.

Keegan stood. "The defense rests," he said.

"Very good," Chauhan replied. "Is the prosecution ready to begin?"

"Yes, sir," Simone said. "The prosecution calls Voyager's Emergency Medical Hologram." The Doctor walked down from the gallery to the witness chair. He sat, scowled briefly at the defendant and tilted his head toward the prosecutor. "Tell me, Doctor," Commander Brown continued. "How long have you believed you were sentient?"

"For about five years."

"According to Doctor Zimmerman, that is unlikely."

"My 'father' has some restricted notions about the development potential of my program. Why, five years ago, I had already acquired an interest in opera and the classics. I developed advanced medical techniques. I studied holography, my own existence, philosophy—"

"The defense concedes the Doctor's personal development," Keegan said.

"Thank you," T'Lara said. "Commander Brown, please continue."

"Yes, sir. Doctor, how do you regard Lieutenant Keegan's action?"

"The lieutenant took from me my right to choose. He stole a portion of my sentience."

"Explain please," the commander said.

The Doctor smiled. "Scientists define sentience as possessing intelligence, self-awareness and consciousness. I disagree. I believe it is the act of desire. A machine does not want. I do. I want to live. I want to think. I want to feel. I want to improve myself. With desire comes choice. My program will hold only so much. I must choose which information I will learn and which skills I will possess. If I choose to learn an opera, I must leave out a musical. My desires define me, so my choices define me. Lieutenant Keegan took my right to choose."

"Did you have the right to choose?" Brown asked.

The Doctor shrugged with excess. "I am not an admiral, no. I do not know Federation law as well as I might. But, I do know doctor-patient confidentiality."

"You also know you must tell your captain of any illegal acts whether confidentiality applies or not. Could you resolve this issue?"

"As I said, no. I would hope the lieutenant would think enough of me to trust me."

"What if you were wrong? Could you take that chance?" Simone Brown said. "You had the ability to destroy a man's life. Did you have the right to make that decision? Would any doctor, flesh or otherwise?"

The Doctor tilted his head to the side in deep contemplation. "No," he said. "No doctor would."

"Does that excuse his act?"

"No," the Doctor said slowly. "He should have found another method."

"Such as?"

The Doctor started to answer, paused and started again. "I don't know. I don't know the extent of his skills."

"You leave him very little alternative."

The Doctor paused again, with more flair. "I was not to blame for his situation. I should not have been made a victim of it."

"Thank you, Doctor." Commander Brown returned to her chair.

Commander Ponomarev began to stand, but Keegan put a hand on her arm. He stood in her place and walked to the middle of the room.

"Tell me, Doctor," he began. "What do you think your decision would have been?"

"It's difficult to speculate."

"I trust your ability to do so," Phil said with a smile.

"I might have reviewed your life aboard Voyager up to that point."

"And?"

"You did not seem to show too much mental instability."

"Then, Doctor, tell us your decision."

"I would need to know if you posed a threat," the Doctor said.

"Did I?"

"I'm not certain."

"Guess, Doctor. What would you have thought?"

"Objection," Brown said.

Keegan turned around, clearly surprised.

"The Doctor's program suffered a breakdown from an ethical feedback loop," Commander Brown continued. "The lieutenant's questions may cause another breakdown."

"Lieutenant?" T'Lara said.

"That was not my intention," Keegan said slowly.

"Doctor," T'Lara asked. "Do you feel you can continue."

"Yes," he said. "With respect to the prosecutor, I am perfectly safe."

"Very good," Brown said.

"Lieutenant," T'Lara said. "Please continue."

"Doctor," Keegan said. "What is your answer?"

"Some of your actions appeared suspicious."

"Were they?"

"I don't know."

"How long do you think you would wrestle with this question?"

"I can't say."

Phil sighed carefully. "Could you ever answer this question?"

"I don't know."

"Is your duty more to the ship or your oath as a doctor?"

"They are the same if you posed a threat."

"Did I?"

The Doctor paused, tilting his head and spreading his hands. "I'm not sure."

"Are you not sure because of my actions in the last five years or the two previous?"

"I don't know."

"Then or now?"

"Either," the Doctor replied.

"Then, if I had asked, would you have accepted the subroutine willingly?"

The Doctor arched his eyebrows and turned his head to one side. Then he arched them again and turned his head back. "I believe I would," he said. "But how would you ask me?"

"The memory buffer on the holodeck," Keegan said.

"What?" the Doctor replied.

"When you use the holodeck, your active memory is stored in the buffer. I could have extracted that memory into the holodeck and asked it. It would not have access to your core program and would suffer because of that. Had I asked it the question, its decision would match yours to within ninety-seven percent."

Commander Brown stood. "The prosecution asks Doctor Zimmerman to confirm that value."

Zimmerman stood and walked to the edge of the gallery.

"Doctor Zimmerman?" T'Lara asked.

"I estimate ninety-four percent," he said.

"Thank you, Doctor," T'Lara replied. "Lieutenant, please continue."

"I have no further questions," Keegan said.

"Redirect?" Chauhan asked. Commander Brown shook her head. "Doctor, you may step down. Commander, your next witness."

"I'm sorry, Lika," Phil whispered.

"For what?"

"For not telling you this."

"The prosecution calls Sarina Douglas," Brown said in a clear voice.

Sarina, shy to the point of non-existence, slipped down from the gallery almost unseen. She pulled herself back into the witness chair and kept her eyes well away from Lieutenant Keegan. She was sworn in and smiled at Simone Brown.

"Professor Douglas, I asked you to research Lieutenant Keegan's claims and his background prior to his abduction by the Caretaker. Could you tell us your findings?"

She nodded and took a quick, shallow breath. "Philip Keegan attended the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and earned Master's degrees in physics and mathematics. He also assisted in the development of the first fusion reactor."

"Was he responsible for the design used to detonate the reactors?" Brown asked.

"No," Sarina whispered and shook her head for emphasis. "Though I consider it unlikely that he did not know of its existence."

"Is he the author of Cochran's Unclaimed Thesis?"

"Yes," she replied with a nod.

"Anything else?"

Sarina turned her face and body toward Philip Keegan. "He murdered a man in cold blood in nineteen-ninety-two."

Simone and Anzhelika spun toward Phil. The admirals, the gallery, the eyes of Kathryn Janeway all moved to him. He didn't twitch. He hardly blinked.

"Well done," he said softly.

"Objection, Lieutenant?" T'Lara said into the heavy silence.

"None, your honor." His eyes remained on Sarina.

"Commander Brown," T'Lara said. "Please continue." Simone did not respond. "Commander, are you able to continue?"

"Yes," she said. "My apologies to the court." She straightened her tunic with a snap. "Professor, why did no one else find this information?"

"Someone hid it very well," Sarina replied still watching Phil.

"How could that be?"

"He was acquitted. Some assumed his disappearance was the result of revenge. No further action was needed."

"Why was he acquitted?" Simone asked.

"According to the medical examiner, no human could do that much damage to a person's skull without mechanical help. No machinery was found."

"Is that analysis true of a eugenic?"

Sarina finally turned her head to Commander Brown. "No," she said.

"How did the victim die?" Simone asked.

"I shoved his skull into a stone wall," Phil said.

"Why?" Sarina said softly.

Phil drew a deep breath and let it drain out of him. "Do you know how much I hate Khan Noonian Singh?"

"Lieutenant," Chauhan said. "If you have pertinent information, please enter it into the record."

"Has the prosecutor completed her questioning?" Phil asked.

"Yes," Brown said. "No further questions."

"Lieutenant?" Chauhan said.

"Professor Douglas, do you fear me?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Why?"

"You don't know what you are," she said.

He laughed, slowly. "I wish that were true."


	17. The Trial Part 12

**STARDATE -331186.81: March 9, 1992**

Phil hefted the four-hundred-pound bar to his shoulder and shoved it above his head. He began to grunt and moan beneath the weight. He paused, repositioned his hands, scratched his nose, and put his free hand back.

"Philip," Khan said with a tilt of his head.

Phil shook his head and tossed the bar down. It hit off angle and cracked a groove into the floor. Khan picked up the bar in one hand and walked back to Phil. He put his hand on Phil's shoulder.

"I understand your feelings, Philip, but we must do what is necessary." He set the bar down in front of Phil. "They are not ready for the full knowledge of us. Please continue."

Phil took a water bottle and squeezed an amount into his mouth. "I don't care if they ever know," he said.

Khan's perpetual smile froze, and his eyes tightened. "They will know well enough, Philip. They will welcome us."

"They will welcome you. I'm just a guy who's good with numbers."

"Well said!" Khan laughed and knocked him in the shoulder. "One of the foremost physicists of our era."

"Hawking has me beat any day," Phil replied.

Khan exhaled through a determined smile. "Yes," he said, his mouth still in its smile. "He is very good. The world is lucky to have you both."

Phil pressed a towel into his face, dabbing sweat he did not have. "I think luck only applies to one of us."

"True enough," Khan said. "But the world will be pleased with you both."

"Perhaps they will," Phil said. "I need to go. I'm meeting the cadets."

"That's not for some time."

"I want to look my best."

"I want you ready for the exhibition," Khan said.

Phil shrugged. "I was born ready."

Khan laughed well, but his eyes never lost focus.

Sometime later, two dozen hopeful cadets stared up the dry brown length of the unpainted launch engines of the DY-70 planetary transport. Far in the back, one cadet raised his hand and looked at Keegan.

"Why a submarine?" he said.

"Submarines make the most efficient use of space," Phil replied. "We could copy their schematics almost exactly into the design of the transport."

A woman raised her hand. "How important is the physical portion of the training?" Some of the cadets laughed.

"Very," Keegan replied. "We have no idea how difficult the trip will be for the crew. All the knowledge in the world can't help you if your body won't do the job."

"Equal importance, then," she said.

"Yes," Keegan said. "Any more questions?"

"Will we be training on the space station?"

"No," Keegan said sharply. "I'm sorry. We'll be using a mock-up."

"How long will the trip take?"

Phil sighed. "If the ion drive works, only a few weeks."

"How will selections be made?"

He sighed again. "Highest scores for the first trip to improve the chances of success. I'll let you look at the ship now. You can't go in yet, but it doesn't hurt to look at it." The cadets picked around the engines and massaged the ship.

"Well done," Khan said beside Phil. "They are a good group."

Phil turned around. "What's that?" he said of the bundle under Khan's arm.

"The new uniforms. Do you like them?"

"It's not really my color."

Khan smiled and slapped him on the shoulder. "You'll look fine."

"Doctor Keegan?" a cadet said. She was pretty, with Chinese features and a warm smile.

"I'm not a doctor," Phil said.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I read your last paper. I just assumed..."

"I'll have my doctorate by the end of the year."

"Of course," she said. "Anyway, it's a pleasure working with you. Your work is brilliant. I hoped I could discuss your paper with you. I wrote an analysis of it, you know."

"Yes, I read it," Keegan said. "You failed to account for some of the infinities in your results."

"Really?" She looked hurt. "Well, it will be something to work on during the trip, won't it?"

"If you manage to get a spot."

"Will you be going on the mission?" she asked.

"No," Phil said. "As an instructor, I'm not eligible."

"Oh, that's unfortunate." She stalled against her thoughts. "Well, I would still like to discuss your work. If you'd like. If you have the time."

"Yes, I would like that."

"And, Doctor Singh!" she said. "I know you're a doctor. It's an honor to meet you."

"Thank you, my dear. And congratulations. Only the best and brightest are allowed in here."

"Yes." She looked at Phil. "The very best."

Khan slapped Phil's shoulder again. "I am very proud of my cousin."

"Cousin?"

"By marriage," Phil said flatly, as if by rote.

"Now, my dear, you should return to the others," Khan said. "There's much more to do."

She nodded and walked away.

"I don't think Gescilene would mind," Khan said in a low voice, his eyes on the cadet.

"Gesci would cut them off, sew them back on and cut them off again."

Khan chuckled. "Never lament a strong-willed woman, Philip."

"I'll remember that."

"Be happy, Philip. That vessel will soon take humanity to Mars. That attractive young woman may be among them. It is better, don't you think, for them to prepare the way for us?"

"As you wish, Khan."

"Philip, Philip," he tsked. "I thought you loved them. Are your passions so easily turned?"

"No, Khan. I am glad for them." He looked at the cadet. "I wish them all the best."

"And they will thank us for that. Their gratitude, their love, is not so unpleasant."

"Yes, Khan, you're right. I have all that you've described. I have everything they could want. All they need to do is ask for it."

Khan nodded. "Well said, Philip," he whispered gently. "Well said indeed."

Many hours later, Phil stood alone in the gymnasium. He tapped the top of a CD player and one of his brother's concertos began to play. He jumped up to the rings and began his routine. He was not in the gymnastics competition, but he enjoyed the rings as an exercise. He moved so the crack of the straps matched the beat of the music. At one point, when inverted, he saw the door of the gymnasium close and a figure move into the room. He twisted as he fell so he faced her when he landed.

"That was very impressive," the cadet said.

"It's a hobby," Phil replied. "You're not supposed to be here this late."

"Really?" she said. "I was told it was allowed. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry. It won't get you kicked out." He leaned over and turned off the music.

"That was nice," she said.

"I'll tell my brother you liked it."

She shook her head. "You have an amazing family."

"Thank you," he replied and picked up the player.

"Truly amazing. In everything you do. I mean that."

"Yes, I know. Thank you. Did you want to use the equipment?"

"I just wanted to say..." She took a breath. "How proud I am to work with someone like you."

"Yes. Thank you." He threw a towel over his shoulder. "I'm proud to work with someone like you, too."

"Someone like me?"

"I had a privileged upbringing. You earned your place here. I envy that."

She put her hand on his arm. "I really, really mean what I'm saying. I'm very glad I'm working with you."

He put his hand over hers, holding it against his skin. "Do you dance?" he said.

"Yes," she said quickly.

He put the player down and selected a track. A waltz began to play. Phil pulled her into position. She laid her head against his chest and they began to move.

Two hours later, she clutched his chest and whimpered in pain as he carried her into the ER. He called out for help and laid her on a gurney.

"What is it?" a doctor said, the last doctor he wanted to hear.

"I think her pelvis is broken," he replied.

"How did this happen?" Gesci asked.

Before Phil could reply, the cadet yelped. Gesci saw to her injuries, gave her a pain killer and called for x-rays.

"You'll be fine," Gesci said.

"What..." the cadet winced. "How..."

"It's okay. My brother only does this with women he likes."

"Brother?" the cadet said in a surprisingly clear voice.

"By marriage," they replied together.

"Oh," she said and waited. "The...mission."

"You're not off the team, but you won't recover in time for the first trip," Phil said. "I'm sorry."

"I understand. I just... Why did you do that?"

"I got excited," he said.

"We're taking you to x-ray, now," Gesci said.

"Thank you, Doctor."

A man took hold of the gurney, said some reassuring words, and pushed her down the hall.

"Phil," Gesci said. "I'll be back in a moment."

"Gesci?" He said and followed her to a locker room. "Gesci, let me apologize."

Once the door shut, she yelled, "Mother-fucker!" and punched a locker. Her fist yanked the locker door from its hinges and pushed it two inches into the back panel and into the locker behind the first. The lockers wobbled from the impact.

"It's this again," Phil said.

"Shut up, Phil."

"Tell me."

"SHUT UP!" She threw her fist at him. He caught her punch and held it until she pulled her hand away.

"Tell me, Gesci," he said, shaking the sting out of his hand. She panted against his words. "Damn it!" he yelled and hit the lockers with his fist. He dented the corner four inches deep and twisted the lockers hard against their base. "What is it? It's two damn years of this. I want to know."

"That goddamn bastard."

"That's a given," he said. "Did he know you were on duty?"

"God, Phil, he called me in." She sat down with a shudder.

"And I thought this was all for me."

She laughed, dry and empty. "Why fuck over one when you can fuck over a hundred?"

He dropped to his knees in front of her. "Tell me," he whispered. "Please."

She closed her eyes and twitched at the memories. "He was awake," she said.

"Who?"

"The saboteur from the fifty launch. I gave him enough sedative to knock out even you. None of it worked. He was awake through everything I did, watching me." She took a breath. "And Zi, never one to leave a blade untwisted, told me how much he admired my technique."

"Gesci—" Phil said.

"Doctor Amarel?" an orderly asked, walking into the room. "Is everything all right? Do you need any help?"

"I'm fine, Tony," she said.

"Are you sure?" He looked at the room.

"Yes," she replied.

"Should he be in here?" Tony asked.

"Yes, Tony. My brother would never hurt me."

"Brother?"

"Yes, Tony," she said. "If you don't mind, this is family business."

"I'm...sorry, Doctor. If you need me, call."

"Thank you, Tony."

He turned to leave, but more hospital staff had crowded against the door. One, a surprisingly young and well-built Chief of Staff, examined the damage to the lockers.

"Gescilene, are you having some difficulties?" he asked with a smooth lilt.

"No," she said.

"Philip?"

Phil was still on his knees, struggling not to hold his sister. "None at all."

"I don't think you should be in here, Philip," the Chief of Staff said.

Gesci stood and smoothed her coat. "I need to check on my patient."

When she passed the other doctor, he said, "One of Philip's cadets, isn't she?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Do your best, Doctor Amarel. We want her ready for space."

Phil remained on the ground until the room emptied. He left the hospital with his hands crushed into fists and looked for something to break. He found Tony.

"I don't like the way you treat her," Tony said.

"I'll keep it in mind," Phil said. Tony had two inches and thirty pounds on Phil. He made his weight known.

"I don't want Doctor Amarel hurt the way you hurt that girl."

"God, if you only knew," Phil whispered.

"What?" Tony asked.

"You're not her type, Tony," Phil said. "Give it up."

Phil tried to move around him. Tony put a finger against Phil's chest. "I don't want you hurting her. Do you understand?" Tony said.

Phil took Tony's finger and squeezed. Tony winced, then cringed, then gasped, then grunted and began to drop. He finally cried out in increasing volume as he slid down, pounding Phil's stomach all the way.

"What are you doing?" Gesci said, walking toward them.

"Crushing his distal phalanx," Phil replied without turning.

"I can see that. Why?"

"He irritated me."

"This doesn't help. Let him go."

Phil released the mangled finger.

"Go back inside, Tony," Gescilene said.

"Doctor—" he began. She grabbed his shirt and yanked him up. His eyes widened when his feet left the ground. He landed standing but mute.

"Go inside and get that looked at," she said. "And my brother was right. You don't stand a chance with me."

Phil waited until Tony went back inside. "Gesci—" he began.

"Don't. Don't bother."

"What?"

She laughed, tired and painful, an increasingly familiar sound among Phil's siblings. "After the—" she said. "Dissection, I wanted to be with someone who wasn't one of us. A surgical resident was kind enough to accommodate me."

"He said you wouldn't mind," Phil said. "I should have known."

"None of us have been at our best for a while."

"I know."

They stood in silence, close but not touching.

"Tell me," she said.

"Tell you what?" he said casually.

"What did Grandfather say to him? I know you were there."

"Nothing."

She sighed. "It's your turn. I get a secret."

"It was nothing."

"Well, I want to know what the nothing was. Before—" She took a deep breath. "Before he transfers us. I don't think it will hurt if I know."

Phil looked one way down the road then back. He looked at the small white buildings of the base and at the hospital entrance. He leaned close to his sister's ear and whispered.

"'You turned out well enough for an early batch.'"

She cried out and fell against him. "Oh, god," she whimpered. He tried to hold in her shaking. "How bad will it be?" she said after a while.

"He doesn't want petty revenge. Not really."

"Why did he say it?" she asked.

"Grandfather? Why does Grandfather do anything?"

"And us?" she said. "What about us? When...?" She took a breath. "When?"

"After Barcelona, if we're very good."

"Long enough for Kas to have her baby."

He nodded. "I've been trying to draw it out. He's been busy, but that won't last."

She hugged her head against his chest. "I want to meet tomorrow. Make the time."

"I will," he replied. "And the cadet—"

"She'll be fine. I'll be damned if I do anything different because of him."

"I meant treat her well. I want her to make it to Mars."

"God, you have a hard-on for that place."

He groaned at her. "Tomorrow, after classes."

"Yes."

"And damn the rumors."

She smiled. "Finally."

He held her until they called her back inside.

* * *

The metal legs of the horse cracked and moaned beneath the energetic manipulations of its rider. Philip Keegan, at the door of the gym, watched Joachim in his routine. The blond man finished his spinning and dropped to the ground.

"Careful," Phil said. "You might just win."

"It's my Barcelona routine. I haven't trained in the exhibition routine for a month."

"That should work."

"Join me?" Joachim said, motioning to another horse. Phil shrugged and walked to the apparatus. Joachim began his routine again. Phil mirrored his movements exactly. At a handstand, Joachim stopped. "You and Gescilene have been very public lately," he said.

"Not much need to hide anymore." Phil followed Joachim through more moves.

"Odd, because she seemed upset a few weeks ago."

"That was nothing. We had a spat over the cadet."

Joachim stopped at the edge of the horse. "Of course," he said. He continued his routine. "Tell me, were you there when Grandfather left?"

"I was on the other side of the room from you. You might have missed me."

"Oh, that's right." He continued the routine. "What do you suppose Grandfather thinks about?"

"I wish I knew," Phil said and meant it.

"Yes," Joachim said. "So do I." He twisted off the horse and landed. "Perhaps you should do gymnastics. They could hardly deny the uniqueness of someone your size winning."

"What does Khan think?"

Joachim shrugged. "I'll ask."

Phil nodded. "I need to train for tomorrow."

"Of course. I'll leave the gym to you." He picked up his things. "What were you thinking, second?"

"That was the plan, so I'll look like a dark horse."

"Good luck."

"Thank you," Phil said.

"You'll need it," Joachim said with a smile.

The next day, Phil stood at the edge of the deck watching the fifth place lifter push the bar above his head. The successful lift moved him to fourth place. The man, trailing a scent of chalk dust, walked past Phil with a scowl. Phil was at the lowest weight for the category but the tallest of all of them. He looked gangly next to the other athletes. And he was in second place. The smiles and mentor like comments that met him when he arrived were gone. Phil watched the board. Third place was too close. His adjustments within the gap between the two spots felt like the fine vibrations of a violin string. He watched third place push his bar into place with enough weight to hold the spot.

"Good luck," a man said next to him, Scaios Savakis, first place and the silver medalist in Seoul. He whispered a curse Phil pretended not to understand and walked away.

"He seems nice," Joachim said. He was dressed like a coach and smiled like Khan. "Are you ready?"

"Ready enough," Phil said. He walked to the bar and took hold of it. He repeated many of the warm-up actions of the other lifters while playing in his mind the struggle he must affect. He pulled the bar up and felt a problem. Not until he shoved it above his head did he know. The bar weighed too much, far too much. Joachim must have disguised the plates. Momentum carried the weight into position before he could decide what to do. He dropped the bar, too smoothly, and looked at the board. Savakis could never make that up. The audience, seeing the weight, applauded.

"Well done, Philip," Joachim said.

"Yes," Phil replied.

Savakis tried and failed to pass Phil and earned fourth place. Phil, to applause and positive commentary, took first. Reporters spoke with him. He was tested for steroids three times and passed each. "The most unexpected event of the exhibition." and other such phrases bounced around the airwaves. But this was weightlifting. Not many people heard. Phil, when the interviews ended, found a bottle of the best wine. He drank and appreciated all of it but felt nothing from it.

Savakis, on the other hand, was well in the bag when he found Phil.

"You, skinny cheat," he yelled out. His voice ricocheted off the buildings in the empty street.

Dark and quiet and far too late at night. Phil was not in the mood.

"What is it?"

"You tell them you cheated."

"Fine, I'll do that tomorrow."

"I knew it," Savakis said. "I knew you cheated. What did you use? Blood doping? A new steroid?"

"Nothing you could use," Phil said. He tried to walk away.

"You tell me what you used."

Phil cursed at him in Greek and turned away. That was too much. A heavy fist struck him across the jaw.

"Stupid, fucking _human_!" Phil said and caught Savakis in the face. Locking his knee, he pushed from the ground, up his leg, through his torso, down the length of his arm, hard enough to lift Savakis from his feet, pushing the weight lifter's head into the wall behind him, stopping only when he felt the crunch.

He wanted to wait. He wanted to confess. He wanted to tell everyone. He did none of that. He returned to his hotel room and waited for the sunrise. The policia knocked on the door soon after.

At the trial, another Greek athlete testified about the victim's state of mind. He was new to the sport but did surprisingly well in his exhibition matches. He carried with him a disturbing smile.

"He was very angry," the translator said. "He said the defendant cheated in the match and bribed the judges."

"Did he have proof?" the prosecutor asked.

"No, but he said no skinny Irishman could lift so much."

"What did you do?"

"I tried to calm him down. I told him this was not the Olympics. The Olympic judges could not be bribed. He would be exposed. Savakis would not listen. He was very angry."

"Did you try to stop him?"

"To stop him from what? I thought he was returning to his room. I told him this was one match, and the Irishman was very lucky. He told me he would go. He told me he would not let this Irishman ruin his day. I did not know to stop him."

"What did you do after he left?"

"I finished my bottle and returned to my room. I did not know he was gone. We do not share a room. I knew nothing else."

"Thank you," the prosecutor said.

"So," Joachim said, standing. "You never saw my client with Savakis. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Savakis lost to Señor Keegan, yes? How much stronger is he than Savakis?"

"He is not. The competition measures what percentage of your own weight you lift. The defendant lifted more of his own weight, but Savakis was much stronger."

"Thank you," Joachim said.

Later in the trial, the defense brought in a forensics expert. She was very attractive and remarkably young for someone so respected in her field. Phil wondered how many more of them would appear in this farce. He felt genuinely sorry for the balding judge and the overweight prosecutor.

"Describe your findings, please," Joachim said.

The witness removed a large photo of the back of Savakis' skull. A woman cried out in the back of the court. Pitch and tone implied a mother. Phil ground his teeth against the noise.

The witness explained the amount of damage to the skull and the force required. She described the post-mortem indentation of the face.

"Cylindrical and metallic. It did not create the initial wound, but it crushed the bone and tissue to such a degree that it is impossible to identify the murder weapon."

Prosecution experts confirmed her findings. Insufficient evidence. The body was too clean. She did it. Phil knew as he listened. She had watched him and cleaned the body when he left.

When Phil was acquitted, the prosecutor apologized. Savakis' mother was carried out. Joachim patted him on the shoulder and told him, "Well done."

He found Gesci, Nate and Kas in his room when he returned.

"I'm sorry it had to be you," Nate said.

"So am I," Phil said.

"I was looking forward to Barcelona," Gesci said.

"So was I," Nate replied.

"Where are the others?" Phil asked.

"Paired off and trying to find someplace pleasant," Kashmira said.

"We're not getting that, are we?" Phil said to Gesci.

"I won't let anyone else deliver this child," Kas said, touching her belly.

Phil shook his head. "I don't blame you." He took hold of Kas and kissed her deeply. "We still have a good legacy," he said.

"We need to go," Nate said. Phil nodded. The brothers hugged. Nate and Kas left.

"Phil—" Gesci began. Phil pushed his mouth over hers to stop her.

"If you weren't my sister," he said.

"Shut up, Phil," she said. "Just shut the fuck up."

They had an hour. Not the whole night. Silence and hunger and nothing else. She dressed and left while he packed. Phil rented a car and drove south. He would be easy to find but hard to catch. He'd make them work. The two from the trial he was sure. He'd give time to those that needed it. So would the others with no reason to wait. He bore east. The Riviera, maybe. He always enjoyed it there.

The man came to Phil, days later, when he stopped for lunch far off the road.

"Philip?" he said.

Phil turned without shock or anger. The man was average height with a slim build. He had dark hair and Mediterranean skin and eyes as grey and sharp as flint arrowheads.

"Hello, Grandfather."

"How is my favorite grandchild?"

"She's fine. She's in Australia training."

The man laughed. "You always had the best sense of humor."

"It never did me much good." Phil turned to the wide Mediterranean Sea. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"I made a comment to Kahn. He did the rest. I'm sorry. I needed to know."

"I didn't. You could stop them."

"I used to do things like that. It never turned out well."

"Can you do anything?" Phil said. "As a personal request from your second favorite grandchild? Or wherever I am on your list. Can you do one thing for me?"

"The children will be fine. I'll even help you retain your anonymity. You'll be remembered for the good you did or not at all."

"And Kahn?"

"I don't think humanity will need my help."

"Humanity has always needed you, Grandfather, even if they didn't want to." He sighed at the waters. "Did you love us, even a little?"

"I loved all of you."

Phil nodded. "Care for some lunch?" he said.

"Certainly."

A week later, again in the middle of nowhere, Phil lay on a sleeping bag and stared at the stars. He saw one detach and approach him.

"What the hell is that?" he said.


	18. The Trial Part 13

**STARDATE 55439.15: Last Day of the Trial**

"Commander Brown said prison is for redemption and remorse. She was wrong. I have lived in my own prison for seven years and used that time to fight for Voyager, to help its crew and to help whatever species that asked. I did this to rid myself of what Khan revealed in me. Prison would not change me. I could only do that myself.

"In the past seven years, I have done all that I could to redeem myself for my crime. I have tried to help. I tried to be the best Starfleet officer I could. I tried to undo as much of my failures as Khan's atrocities. And I have failed. I did everything as a eugenic. Skills, knowledge and interaction were all easy. I could make myself anything I needed to be, except a Starfleet officer. I tried to understand you, your culture, what humanity has become. I failed. But every time I learned something new about you, every time I saw my own failures, I wanted to be one of you even more. I once told Captain Janeway that Starfleet was all I could ever want. That was one of my few truths to her. I am not the Starfleet officer you desire. But I will become that officer if given the chance."

He sat down. "Do you think it will be enough?"

"No," Anzhelika said. It was strange how comfortable his cell felt now.

"I understand."

"And your ace?" she said.

"You mean win for losing? I still don't know."

"That's too bad," she said. "You are much better now."

"Thank you."

"I hate to ask this, but that cadet—?"

"Yes."

"So, you were..."

"Her autobiography described me as 'faulty exercise equipment'."

"Right," she said. "In Starfleet, you learn to bend only the right rules. Consider that."

He smiled at her, genuinely happy.

"What?" she said.

"You have been very helpful to me as a co-counsel."

"Damn straight."

* * *

"With clear knowledge of the rules against eugenics, Philip Keegan entered Starfleet. He did so not for remorse or redemption, not to repair the harm done by Khan, but for his own satisfaction. All that he did, save run Voyager's Computer Core, could have been done as a non-Starfleet crewmember. Mister Neelix and Seven of Nine both served Voyager without ever obtaining Starfleet rank. Indeed, he could hide his secret more effectively without that rank. He could refuse the Doctor's scans. He never needed to corrupt his programming. All that Mister Keegan did could remain intact without the deceptions, without the crimes. Mister Keegan wants to make up for his own crimes and those of his people. That uniform is not required for that. That uniform serves Mister Keegan. He does not serve it."

Simone Brown sighed quietly when she finished and sat down.

"Lieutenant?" Admiral Chauhan said. "Your closing argument?"

Phil closed his eyes and listened to the advice of his friends and his superior officers. He played back the questions he asked and the answers they gave. He saw the hope in their faces. He saw desire in the eyes of some. He saw what he wanted, and he saw what he needed. He remembered the fear and the pain and the anger of those who knew him better than he liked. He saw himself in a mirror the first time he put on the uniform. He still didn't understand this culture. But that wasn't enough.

He opened his eyes. "Stardate five-eight-four-three-point-seven," he said.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Chauhan said. "We will take this information into consideration. This court is in recess as we consider the case. Ambassador Spock, the Tribunal would like to speak with you."

"Of course, sir," the ambassador said.

"Sir," Commander Brown said. "Any testimony should be publicly delivered."

"Lieutenant?" Chauhan asked.

"Defense does not contest this action, sir."

"Commander, do you withdraw your objection?" Chauhan said.

She turned to Keegan, but he did nothing to help. "Yes, sir. I withdraw my objection."

"Very good. This court is in recess." The admirals filed out with Ambassador Spock. Guards approached Phil to take him to the holding cell.

"That was it?" Anzhelika said.

"Yes."

"Well, good luck," she said.

"Lieutenant?" Commander Brown said.

"Yes?"

"I wish you the best."

"Thank you, sir."

He was taken to the holding cell. Lunch passed and dinner approached, and they called him back inside. Ambassador Spock watched in the gallery. The crew of Voyager and the witnesses he called waited. Admiral Kathryn Janeway kept her eyes on him but signaled nothing. Finally, the Tribunal entered.

"Please stand," Admiral Pek said. "On the charge of entering Starfleet illegally, the Tribunal finds Lieutenant Keegan not guilty. His claim that he is a victim of time travel is valid. On the charges of deceiving a superior officer and altering computer records, the Tribunal finds the defendant not guilty. These acts were committed to hide personal information not bearing on Mister Keegan's right to be a member of Starfleet as previously noted. On the charges of interfering with the development of a sentient lifeform and mutiny, the Tribunal finds Lieutenant Keegan guilty. These acts, however small their impact or duration, are in violation of the laws and purpose of Starfleet.

"Lieutenant, the Council considered many possible punishments for your crimes. Eventually, we had to choose between exile and—"

"Exile?" Anzhelika asked.

"Lika, please," Phil whispered.

She shook her head. "Admiral, exile?"

"Lika!" Phil hissed.

"No. Admiral, the Federation does not exile people."

"Commander," Admiral T'Lara said. "May the Tribunal finish rendering its verdict?"

"Yes, ... sir," she said.

"We had to choose between exile," Admiral Pek continued. "And demotion. It is the determination of this court that the Federation would be better served by allowing Mister Keegan to remain in Starfleet. However, we cannot allow his crimes to go unpunished. Lieutenant, you will be reduced in rank to ensign and placed on three years' probation. During that time, you may not advance in rank or hold a security rating greater than required for your post. You will also not be allowed access to a computer core where not required by your post.

"This is the decision of the Tribunal. This court is adjourned." He tapped the bell three times.

"My god," Phil whispered. "They were listening."

"Yes, Mister Keegan," T'Lara said. "We were."

"Yes, sir," he said. "Thank you, sir."

"Ensign Keegan, the Council would like to see you regarding your new post," Chauhan said.

"Yes, sir. May I have a moment to thank my co-counsel?"

"You have fifteen minutes."

"Yes, sir," Phil said. The Tribunal left and Phil turned to Anzhelika. "Lika, I'd like to thank you for all your help."

"Your...welcome?"

"Don't worry about it, Lika. You did well."

"Excuse me," Simone said. "What the hell just happened?"

"You won." Phil was smiling and likely wouldn't stop soon.

"Yes, how? Forget that. Why? No. What the hell did they mean by exile?"

"I'm not allowed to say. Starfleet orders."

She blinked at him a few times. "Well, I see. Am I ever going to understand this?"

"I doubt that," he said. "But they delivered the right decision." He laughed. "Why the hell didn't I see that?" He spun around. "Lika, I have a gift for you."

"That's not required, Phil."

"Who the fuck cares?" He handed her a PADD. "My family liked codes."

"You mentioned that."

"We also hid things. My sister hid a novel in every twenty she wrote. I've extracted them for you. Eleven new novels. You'll be the first to read them."

She tapped the PADD and scanned the text. "Oh. Thank you." She lowered the PADD. "What happened to her? To your niece?"

"She lived a third life and began a fourth. She moved to one of the new colonies and died in a shuttle accident at the age of a hundred and seventy-six. I wish I could have met her."

"Ensign?" Simone said with a cough.

He turned and handed her a PADD. "Three operas, seven symphonies and numerous shorter arrangements. Some of my brother's best work."

"Thank you," she said. "I'm... It was a pleasure, Phil." She shook his hand.

Phil turned toward the council room and found Captain Scott in his way. "Captain, my apologies for what I did."

"See you don't do it again."

"Yes, sir."

"I want to know, am I one of you?"

Phil shook his head. "No, sir, you are not. Neither were Admiral Kirk nor Ambassador Spock's mother."

"Any of them? Any of my friends?"

Phil sighed. "Doctor McCoy was descended from a batch nine eugenic. It's why he lived so long. None of the others."

"Aye, I guess that'll do. Ye best do that uniform right."

"I will do my best, sir."

"I'm sure you will."

* * *

Packing was a slow process. Phil spent too much time laughing at his situation. He was like that when Admiral Janeway knocked at his door.

"Sir!" he said, standing at attention.

"At ease, Ensign. And wipe that smile off your face."

"Yes, sir."

"Ensign, what the hell just happened?"

"I lost."

"You know what I mean," she said.

"I learned why Khan lost to Kirk."

"Enlighten me, if you can."

He took a deep breath. "I thought I always knew. I thought it was _Theories of Capitol Ship Combat in Micro-Gravity_."

"I guess we humans got a few things right."

"Yes," he said. "So did Khan."

"What? Are you serious?"

"The most influential work by a human on starship combat. I believed two hundred years of advanced ideas and real-world experience gave Kirk the edge. But that was how Khan lost, not why." He laughed, the healthiest she'd ever heard from him. "I have a secret."

"Oh, god."

"I was convinced the Council would keep me in Starfleet so they could order me to reveal my secret. Instead, they are keeping me in Starfleet so they can order me not to."

"You sound... happy."

"This is the best failure of my life, Admiral. I am finally beginning to understand your culture. I want very much to be a part of it."

"I don't suppose they will let you explain any of this?"

He smiled at her, not in a way an ensign should smile at an admiral. "I made your counterpart a promise. If my secret is ever needed, I asked the Council to allow you to be there. They agreed. I should warn you, though, I don't think you'll like it."

"Klingon shock troops couldn't keep me away."

"I'll remember that."

She scanned his suitcases. "And what will you do until then?"

He sighed. "Utopia Planitia. I am going to design starships, B'Elanna is going build them, Tom is going to fly them."

"They want to keep you close."

"No," he said. "They want to keep me busy."

"Fair enough." She sighed herself. "Philip, you're a damn good officer. It was a pleasure serving with you."

"Thank you, sir. I felt the same."

She shook his hand and walked out. Dammit, she thought, he got the last word.


	19. The Trial Part 14

**STARDATE 70618.2: Fifteen Years after the Trial**

Admiral Janeway watched the tractor beams pull the mutilated hull of the U.S.S. Savaal into spacedock. Two-thirds of her crew were dead. A third of the saucer section was gone including the bridge. A scar three decks high ran the length of the engineering hull. She still had warp power and weapons. Holy god, Kathryn thought.

Starfleet told her nothing. She read reports from the other ships that made it back. The Savaal drew the cube away. That was the last they saw. No communication with the Savaal was permitted. The ship was ordered to Starbase Four for refit, a long trip with that much damage. No explanation offered. They gave Kathryn two orders. The first she couldn't believe. The second let her ask any question she wanted after she was aboard. The gantry locked into place, and Kathryn approached the airlock.

"Warning," the starbase computer said. "You have been targeted by phasers. Identify yourself or you will be fired upon. Enter voice and DNA identification now."

She provided her name, rank and service number.

"Recognized. Prepare for security scan." Janeway took a shallow breath. "Scan complete. Welcome aboard, Admiral."

The airlock thrummed open, and shut as soon as she entered. She walked the cylindrical corridor with only the echo of her breathing. The second airlock opened on a familiar face.

"Ensign Wildman," Kathryn said. "It's good to see you."

Naomi smiled back. "Good to be seen." She was bruised and pale. Her uniform was torn and a horn was missing. The admiral touched the empty spot lightly.

"Does it hurt?" she asked

"No more than the rest," Naomi replied. "The doctor will grow me a new one."

"You don't look right without it," Kathryn said.

Naomi sighed. "How many mothers does one ensign need?"

"One hundred and forty-four of us. Remember that."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry we couldn't afford more of a welcoming party."

"Ship before formalities," Kathryn said. "Where is he?"

"On the Auxiliary Bridge."

"Let's get this over with." She followed Naomi past the blocked passages and exposed decks. "Tell me what happened," she said after a while.

"The task force engaged the Borg cubes. They finally adapted to the technology the other Admiral Janeway brought. We destroyed two of the cubes, but the third hit our bridge and the saucer section. The senior staff was killed. He was the next in line. Only three of our ships were left. We were not enough for the cube. He ordered the other two to split off and try to reach the reinforcements. We pulled the cube away. We used nebulae, asteroid fields, even an ion storm to harry it until the fleet arrived."

"That's very impressive, Naomi."

"We never would have made it without him."

"I can see that, Ensign."

"I'm sorry, sir. On this ship, you get in the habit of defending him."

"I understand. You won't need to worry about that any more."

As they stepped onto the bridge, a lieutenant called out, "Admiral on the deck!" The crew snapped straight.

"At ease," Janeway said. She walked around the tactical station to a figure in a blue uniform. Still so young looking, damn him. "Lieutenant Commander Philip Keegan."

"Admiral Janeway," he replied.

"By order of Starfleet Command, you are hereby promoted to the rank of captain and given command of the U.S.S. Savaal." She placed the pips on his collar and held out her hand. "Congratulations."

He took her hand. "Sir, I will serve to the best of my ability."

"I'm certain of that." She turned to the Vulcan at Keegan's right. "Lieutenant Commander Senek, you are promoted to the rank of commander and given the position of First Officer of the U.S.S. Savaal."

"Admiral," he said. "I shall serve as duty requires."

The admiral nodded. "Captain Keegan," she said. Behind her, Naomi smiled. "Your request that Lieutenant T'Zel be made your chief engineer and Second Officer is denied. Command feels she lacks the experience. You will be assigned new officers to fill those posts."

"Yes, sir," he said. He turned to Senek. "Commander, you will be in charge of the refit for now. Do nothing to the weapons or defensive systems. Admiral Janeway and I have been ordered to acquire schematics for those systems from a research facility. The Savaal will serve as the test bed for the new weapons."

"Yes, sir," Senek said. "When should I expect your return?"

"Within eight days. Work on the superstructure and the power systems first. We'll need those in place for the weapons."

"Yes, sir. The ship will be ready."

"I have every faith in you, Mister Senek. Admiral, shall we go?"

"Lead the way, Captain."

They reached the Captain's Yacht and took their seats. Kathryn smiled at the familiarity of it. The Delta Flyer was the template for most Yachts now, this one included. Phil pulled the shuttle away from the Savaal and rushed her out of spacedock. Kathryn waited until they were in warp to ask the question.

"Research facility?"

"Some of the more rogue members of Section Thirty-One might have sent Betazoids to you. Command couldn't take the chance. They let me tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"The secret."

"Which secret is that, Philip?"

" _The_ secret, Kathryn."

"Oh. That secret." She leaned back in her chair and tried to relax. "What about the Section Thirty-One operative on the Savaal? Will he try anything?"

"He died defending the ship against a Borg assault team." Phil shook his head. "I may not like their methods, but I cannot question their loyalty."

"So, where are we going?"

"We are going to Holberg 917-G," he began.

"That's forbidden space," she said.

"I know. The system was damaged by Omega particles. They were detonated intentionally."

She shook her head. "That doesn't sound like the Federation."

"It wasn't. My grandfather did that. He wanted to deter visitors."

"Your grandfather?" She said the word hard and said it again in her mind. "How?"

"My grandfather possessed instant tissue regeneration. He could not age. He came here when he was more than six thousand years old. He wanted to create a companion. He failed, again. And, removed from the Earth, he lost the ability to regenerate."

"He died?" she asked.

"I don't know. We shall see."

"He is your secret?"

"No. The Council knew about him. The Constitution class Enterprise visited there to acquire emergency medical supplies. Ambassador Spock was the ship's First Officer."

"His secret testimony?" she asked.

"Additional information not in the logs. Only three men met my grandfather on Holberg 917-G. At the time of the trial, two of them were dead."

"Kirk and McCoy."

"Yes. My grandfather promised to devote his remaining years to the betterment of mankind, but the technology he developed was too much for us. We weren't ready. He knew that and hid the system behind the Omega damage and hid the world behind a defense screen we still cannot penetrate."

"You hope he's still alive and will respond to you?"

"No," he said. "He set up a security code. When we can pass that, we can reach the planet. The best computers and codebreakers of the last century have tried to defeat it. They failed." He smiled. "But they didn't grow up with him."

"Your counterpart," she said with a smile of her own. "That's what he did."

"Yes. It took him a month with Pathfinder. I don't have that restriction. I should be through in about a week."

"A week? What shall I do, Philip?"

"Kathryn, you have a war to organize."

"True enough."

He sighed. "Coffee?"

"Yes."

He returned with a mug and a plate for both of them. "This is a desert made by one of the Andorians on the Savaal from Vulcan ingredients. It has a complex taste."

She took a bite. "My compliments to the chef."

"To his family," he corrected.

They sipped coffee in silence.

"Your grandfather failed twice?" she asked.

He sighed. "He tried to create a positronic android. It collapsed under its own emotions. He wanted a companion that would last longer than a human lifespan, something that would match his mind and body. An equal."

She nodded and ate her desert. "I quite enjoy this."

"I've had to add time in the gym because of it."

"How has it been for you?"

"Well—" The warp engines cut out. He turned to the controls. "Full impulse from here to the planet."

"Enough time for you to answer my question?"

"I lost two-thirds of my closest friends in one day. I've been better."

"Before that."

"Honestly, Kathryn, I was happy. I was the Chief Science Officer of a Federation starship. That's all I ever wanted."

"On a ship sixty percent Vulcan. That must have been interesting."

He smiled. "Are familiar with the term 'back seat driver'?"

"Yes, in my day we call them a First Officer."

He laughed loud and well at that. "I must tell that to Chakotay," he said.

She sipped her coffee again. "I read that paper you wrote with Lisa."

"I did enjoy that," he said.

"How is she?"

"She's fine, the kids are fine, Tadao's fine. I'll tell them you asked."

"How are you doing?"

He squinted at her. "What do you mean? I was Tadao's best man."

"I know that, Phil. I mean, how are you doing?"

"It's difficult. Human women are afraid."

"Are you still...?"

"No. I stopped that years ago. They're afraid of what any children might be like. I can't blame them." He contemplated his cup.

"And the non-humans?" she asked.

"On our last long range mission, one of the Vulcan women had her mating cycle kick-started. Mating with another Vulcan would have created problems. She asked for my help. I've had worse weeks."

"Did she...? Is she still on the ship?"

"Yes. You just turned her down to be my Chief Engineer."

"Speaking of engineers, I'm looking forward to what a six-thousand-year old genius can create." Still too distant for the eye, she watched the planet approach in the monitors.

"You've seen it. Where do you think we got the ablative armor and transphasic torpedoes? That's a hell of a lot of advancement for twenty years."

"How did Starfleet know your grandfather had such technology?"

"Originally, they didn't. They were desperate. When I told the Council, they ordered me to hold the information until it was needed."

"Fair enough. When did you know?" she said.

"The minute I saw the schematics. My grandfather's signature is easy to spot." He stretched. "I'm going to get some sleep. I want to be rested for my encounter with Grandfather's computer. I haven't had much good sleep lately."

She looked at the monitor. "You've got two-and-a-half hours." He nodded as he walked to the back of the shuttle. Kathryn opened a database on Borg movements and saw Starfleet had updated the information that morning. She smiled at their thoroughness and began reviewing tactical information.

He returned on time wearing a command uniform and carrying more coffee. "Watch the bed," he said. "It's a bit stiff."

"Just one?" she asked.

"This is not the original Captain's Yacht from the Savaal. They ripped out non-essentials for computer space. It's basically a flying codebreaker."

She leaned back from her console and watched him work. "Do you feel vindicated?"

"I feel accepted. I said the Tribunal delivered the correct verdict. That's still true."

The comm bleeped and a voice said, "Your ship has been targeted. Any attempt to land will result in your destruction. You may leave at any time in safety. Access to the planet will be granted if you are able to provide the correct entrance codes. First code: complete the following number sequence." A series of numbers appeared on the monitor.

"That seems a little easy," Kathryn said.

"The number sequence is irrelevant. The first transmission carries a modulated signature. The modulation follows a series of increasingly complex formulae. I must identify the formula from each signature, identify the sequence and transmit a response using the next signature. That's step one. Starfleet codebreakers have made it to step fifty-three. I estimate about two hundred such steps, each more complex."

"Oh," Kathryn said.

"My grandfather liked codes."

"I see that. I hope he's still alive. I really want to meet him."

"Yes, Kathryn," Phil said softly. "I know."

They talked little during the week. His level of concentration disturbed her. He would break between codes sometimes and talk to relax. That was all. Once, he laughed when he figured out a code but never explained why. He finished six days and four hours after he began with barely twenty hours of accumulated sleep. Kathryn had to land the ship. A woman met them, pretty and blond with a disconcerting smile.

"You are...ahead of schedule," she said.

"That's my fault," Phil replied. He introduced himself and Kathryn.

"I followed your progress. Your approach was very different."

"Yes," he said. "I cheated."

She tsked at him. "Well, you're here. Please follow me."

After a few steps, Kathryn asked, "Is he here?"

Phil and the woman stopped. "I don't know where he is," she said. "I'm sorry."

"That's all right," Phil said. "May we continue?"

"Of course. My name is Aricia, by the way."

"Greek," Phil said. "Princess of the royal blood of Athens."

She turned around and stared at him. "You sound a great deal like him."

Phil shrugged.

"May I ask why you have come?" she said.

"A species called the Borg has begun a full scale invasion," Kathryn said.

Aricia shook her head. "That is ahead of schedule as well."

"You know about the Borg?" Kathryn said.

"Father knew of them, yes." She guided them down a wide corridor lined on both sides by art of the highest order. Phil stopped at a painting of "The Capture of Persephone". Hades was obscured by armor and a helmet, but the face and body of Persephone were both openly exposed. Phil touched the face of the dark haired child of Demeter.

"Phil?" Kathryn asked.

"Gescilene," he replied.

"Your...sister? The one you—"

"They were just words, Kathryn. We were never related. He always loved her features. He painted her a dozen times. I never saw this one."

"He painted this a century ago," Aricia said.

Phil removed a tricorder and scanned the image to the last molecule.

"You were one of his grandchildren," Aricia said. "How? You were not with Khan."

"Cryogenics not of my doing," he replied.

"That explains your cheat."

"Yes," he told her. "You must repair that after we leave."

"I shall. This way please." They continued on. "Which batch were you?"

"The last. I was the physicist."

She stopped again and began to laugh. "Kieron McCray? Father said I have some of you in me. Your sense of humor. He called it an unexpected act of penance. I think it pleased him."

"You'll forgive me if I don't know how to respond," Phil said.

She smiled. "We both knew him."

They arrived at a large chamber. At its center, twenty feet to a side, stood the familiar form of a Borg cube. Kathryn examined it and whistled.

"This is amazing," she said.

"You will need weapons and defensive systems," Aricia said.

"Yes," Kathryn replied.

Aricia turned her head to one side as if listening. "You have some of his technology aboard your ship now. How is that?"

"An act of time travel gone horribly right," Phil said.

"Father would not be pleased," Aricia replied.

Phil pointed to Kathryn and said, "She did it."

Aricia shook her head. "You should be ashamed of yourself, young lady."

"Oh, god, you are alike," Janeway said. "I don't think the world can survive two people with your sense of humor, Philip."

The children of the immortal smiled.

"I will return soon," Aricia said.

Phil wandered the room and scanned more paintings and sculptures. He stopped at a harpsichord and sat down to play.

"That sounds like Brahms," Kathryn said.

"Grandfather was Brahms."

"Of course. Was he also Shakespeare?"

"No. He was Francis Bacon." Phil continued to play.

"This model is astounding."

"It's not a model," Phil said.

Kathryn examined the ship closer until she saw a frozen figure. She swallowed hard and stepped away.

"Who else was he?" she asked.

"Archimedes, Alexander, Merlin, Imhotep, a few others. Some he would never talk about."

"Remarkable. Did he make all of these?" she said.

"Yes," Aricia replied, entering the room. "This is my favorite." She pointed to a very dark painting. It depicted a line of people digging graves.

"He was there?" Kathryn asked.

"I didn't see him," Phil said. "Why is that your favorite, Aunt Aricia?"

"It's when he turned to androids," she replied. "Where were you? I wanted to ask him, but he left before I could."

"Fifth grave in from the right with the shovel over my shoulder," he replied, standing. "Do you have the schematics?"

"Yes, these should be more than enough."

"Thank you," he said, taking the isolinear chip. "May I ask you something? You don't seem as...unstable...as I was led to believe."

"Nor as sophisticated, I'm afraid. I do not meet father's standards for a companion. I can maintain his home, however."

"Sophistication is in the eye of the engineer. It was a pleasure, Aricia." He kissed her cheek. "I hope to see you again. One last thing." He picked up the sheet music and raised his eyebrows.

Aricia nodded. "You are a precocious nephew, but I will forgive you." She turned to Kathryn. "Admiral, I wish you the best in your war."

"Thank you," Kathryn said. "For the most intriguing afternoon I've ever had."

Back in space, Phil plunged into the schematics. He swallowed page after page with hardly blinking.

"Don't you need sleep?" Kathryn asked.

"Desperately."

"Will they do?"

He looked up. "Yes, I'm certain they will. How are you doing, Kathryn?"

"I'm overwhelmed by your grandfather's technology and his life. His music. He was one of my favorites. His artwork is incredible. His paintings look exactly like Da Vinci's. The most amazing gift for mimicry I've seen."

Phil sighed. "Kathryn," he said in a stern voice.

"No, that wasn't very clever of me." She lowered her eyes as if scolding herself.

"I took so many of your heroes, Kathryn. I wanted to leave you your favorite."

"The Federation has a responsibility to the truth. I will survive this. Tell me, did the simulation look anything like him?"

"Not a bit."

"And what about you?" she asked. "Neither one of you seemed to care if he was alive. I thought McCoy said he was going to die."

"McCoy told my grandfather he lost the ability to regenerate when he left the unique balance of Earth's environment."

"Why not go back to Earth?" Kathryn asked.

"I asked Ambassador Spock that very thing. He said, 'Perhaps he did.'"

"I still don't understand."

"No one does. I cannot love my grandfather or hate him, because I cannot understand him. He was never a part of any era to which he belonged, centuries ahead of everyone around him. He saw children born, grow old and die. He saw our every beauty and every horror. All manner of life and death. He created more of our civilization than we could ever know." Phil took a slow breath. "Have you ever felt alone in a room full of people? Imagine six-thousand years of that. So, no, Kathryn, I cannot condemn my grandfather for what he did. I don't want to know if he's alive, and I don't want to know if he's dead."

She watched him for much longer than she needed to. "He didn't fail completely."

Phil laughed. "Ah, Kathryn, if only I were three centuries younger."

She sighed and stood up. "I've grown suddenly very tired. Read your schematics, Captain Keegan. I want you prepared by the time we reach the Savaal. Good evening."

"Pleasant dreams, Admiral Janeway."

She lay down in the captain's bed and let the memory of Brahms lull her to sleep.


End file.
